


Can You Still Love Me Tomorrow

by ImagineBeatles



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas fic, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, M/M, McLennon, Mistletoe, Misunderstandings, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Non-Penetrative Sex, Questionable Fashion Choices, Sharing a Bed, Slutty!Paul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-20 12:53:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 30,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13147119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineBeatles/pseuds/ImagineBeatles
Summary: John had known something was bound to go wrong when he agreed to be his best friend's fake boyfriend for the entirety of his family's Christmas party. How could it not when you've been pining after said best friend for years without him knowing, and when his father thinks guys like you are everything that's wrong with the world. But that someone would put up a branch of mistletoe at afamilyChristmas party, he would never have even considered to be a possiblity.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all those who are celebrating! I hope you're having a wonderful time with your friends and family or alone. If not, then I hope this McLennon Christmas fic will make it a little better for you. And if you are, then I hope it will make it even better.
> 
> This was written as a Christmas present for chut-je-dors, who asked for a Christmas Fake-Relationship McLennon fic, so that is exactly what this is. Although it was my intention to make this a relatively long one-shot, it instead grew into this monster because I had so many ideas for it and now it has two parts. The second one will (hopefully) be posted some time before or around New Year's. Also, this was written with a deadline, so my apologies for any mistakes and typos. 
> 
> Lastly, CJD has created a wonderful piece of art based on this as a Christmas present to me in return, which you can check out on her tumblr, [ or by clicking here](https://chut-je-dors.tumblr.com/post/169193931439/stilllovemetomorrow).
> 
> I hope you get all you asked for for Christmas and enjoy the fic!

It was Paul who suggested it. Or rather, it had been one of their friends, Colin, who had come up with the initial idea and then Paul had just run with it in his own little over-excited way that made it impossible for John to say “no” to anything he would suggest.

They were at the pub, steadily drinking the night away in celebration of their last weekend of freedom before the exams would begin for Paul and his university friends. Christmas music was playing in the background, something John suspected all pubs, stores and restaurants were required to do by contract once December came around, and countless of half-drunk bottles of beer and whiskey glasses were scattered around the table they were sitting at. Paul was currently downing his fourth glass of scotch and coke and was happily giggling to himself where he sat pressed up against poor George, who looked more than a little uncomfortable with their friend’s coquettish behaviour, as Paul continuously shot him heated glances and kept playing with the material of George’s clothes, being all greedy hands and beguiling eyes.

Paul was generally flirtatious, but alcohol always made it worse, especially when consumed in such such a short amount of time. One quickly drunk glass and he’d hit on pretty much anyone, two and he’d be humping your leg, and by the time he had drunk his fourth, he was about ready to spread his legs for pretty much _anyon e , anywhere_ _,_ no matter _who_ was watching. Or, at least, he would have been, had he not been so frustratingly _coy_ about it all.

Today, George had been chosen as his victim for the evening, or at least until someone better would come along, someone who’d actually respond positively to his flirtations and flirt back, because if there was anything a drunk Paul loved more than flirting, it was being flirted _with_. He was clearly enjoying himself though, taking pleasure in the lack of morals and inhibitions that came with the consumption of alcohol; John didn’t think he’d ever woken up the following morning beside some stranger with a hint of regret.

It was frustrating, though, seeing him act like that, showing himself off in a way that wouldn’t have been more obvious even if he had hung a cardboard sign from his neck with the words _“_ __will_ fuck anyone for £2 _ _”_ written on it in thick black letters, knowing that despite all the lucky boys and girls who had found themselves in Paul’s bed, he had never been and probably never would be one of them. And yet, he wouldn’t trade a sight like that for anything in the world, if only so he could imagine himself in the place of Paul’s victim later when he was home and alone. And well… if he ever _did_ turn out to be lucky enough to fall into his friend’s keen embrace, then... _well…_ that was only lucky, wasn’t it? Of course, John would never take advantage of his friend like that, but if Paul were to kiss _him_ _…_ there was little to be done about that, was there? Even if John would have to be the responsible one and put a stop to it.

For the moment, he couldn’t help but resent young George a little, seeing as the kid truly did not know how lucky he was to have Paul in his lap like that, with one of his legs thrown over George’s lap, his arm curled around his neck, his fingers buried deep in his thick mop of hair, with which he was gingerly playing, all while shooting him heated looks, daring him on. But of course, the poor kid was too awkward, too naive, and, above all, too goddamn _straight_ to take him up on that dare, and fucking hell… he did not deserve to have Paul like this.

“Come on, John. It’ll be fun having you there with me,” Paul said as he tore his eyes away from George and focussed them instead on John, who was sitting at the opposite side of the table and had to take a sip from his own drink at the sexual glint that lingered in those pretty puppy eyes.

He was talking about the annual McCartney Christmas Party: a particularly long-lasting Christmas affair held every year on Christmas Eve to which the entire McCartney family was invited and which lasted well into the night and only ended when more than half of the guests had fallen asleep on the couch or in a chair. This year, it was to be held at Paul’s house at Forthlin Road and - if John could believe the hour-long soliloquy his friend had held on the subject - Paul’s parents had been nagging at him since September to bring a nice girl (or boy) home with him this year to introduce to the rest of the family, despite Paul’s continuous insistence he was not in a relationship at the moment and thus had no one to bring.

“They’re so annoying! It’s like they don’t even believe me or something. And it’s bad enough now with Mum hanging over my shoulder the entire time, you know, watching me every move, as if hoping to catch me texting a mystery girlfriend or whatever so she can force me to invite her. It’s going to be even worse with Christmas with the rest of the family there, of course, especially with Mike being off to Brazil with _his_ new girlfriend. I swear my family has some kind of obsession with relationships, and of course, one or two of them are going to cream their pants at the idea of me potentially having a boyfriend. _‘ O h isn’t that cute, Harold! We didn’t have that in our time, you know. It just didn’t exist back then._ _’_ As if we somehow ‘invented’ being gay or something. It’s exhausting!” Paul had exclaimed during said soliloquy as he had been busy getting his second glass of Scotch down, putting on a funny high-pitched voice to mimic his aunts. Everyone had laughed and nodded sympathetically, recognising similar occurrences during their own family get-togethers, and when Paul had expressed that he just did not want to deal with that for once - just once! - Colin had offered an easy-enough solution.

“Well, why don’t you ask someone to pretend to be your boyfriend or girlfriend for the party? You know, just for the evening?”

“Pretend?”

“Yeah! I know a guy who does that to make a little extra money. I’m sure you’ll be able to find _someone_ willing to do the same,” he had said and right away Paul had praised the idea and Colin himself as being “genius”.

“Wait. People are actually willing to pay for that?” George had interrupted Paul’s  enthusiastic exclamations of happiness and surprise at the idea, and Colin had shrugged before nodding.

“Sure! People are willing to pay for pretty much anything if they have to. It’s not like it’s a fulltime job or anything, but occasionally he goes along to family dinners and parties and such. He’s mainly asked by gay girls who haven’t come out yet, or can’t for whatever reason. He says it’s usually a lot of fun, actually. Even when it goes horribly wrong.”

“Why? Looking for a new job, Harrison?” John had said and George had flushed hot red at that as laughter had erupted amongst the group of friends. .

“Fuck off, John,” he had muttered in reply, and before it could have gone on for any longer, Paul had claimed back all of the attention again by asking if anyone would at all be willing to spend their Christmas as his fake date. When no one stepped up, he had asked them all individually and eventually the choice had fallen upon John and despite John’s excuse that Mimi was expecting him over for Christmas this year and that he could hardly cancel two weeks in advance, Paul had not yet given up on him.

“But Paul, I _hate_ Christmas parties. Especially with your family, no offence, what with how long they go on for. Not to mention that they don’t very much approve of me. Especially your dad. I just might lose my balls if I claim to be your boyfriend. Why don’t you ask one of your many conquest to come along with you? Surely one of them can be convinced to sit through six hours of that in exchange for a little reward. Why’d you need any of us to do it?”

“Because it’ll just be awkward taking someone I barely know and only had sex with once and then never spoke to again! But if it’s someone I actually know, it might be more fun! And really, John, my dad won’t be _that_ bad. As long as you dress nicely and behave, I’m sure they’ll grow to like you. Or at least put up with you, which I think is a bit more of a realistic expectation.”

“I can’t, Paul. I already promised Mimi-” John said, even though pretending to be Paul’s boyfriend did sound rather appealing, even if it was only one evening. The dejected look - complete with pout and large, pathetic doe eyes - that flashed over Paul’s face at his answer, though, immediately made him want to take back all of those words and wrap his arms around him and tell him how sorry he was for ever refusing him anything and promise him that he’d be there not just for Christmas Eve but the entire day if Paul wanted him to. And… that was exactly what he did, except for the rather pathetic hugging part.

“Ugh, fine! But Paul-”

“Yay! Thanks, Johnny!”

“-your parents already know me! How are they possibly going to believe we’re suddenly dating now?” John asked, half hating himself for not being able to just accept it and go with it. After all, he wasn’t going to get this opportunity ever again, and seeing as it was unlikely he and Paul would ever advance their relationship into something more romantic or sexual, it was going to be his only chance to ever be in any way intimate with the other man, even if it was only a lie. God, he was bloody _pathetic ._

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry, John. As long as you two come up with a plausible enough story, I don’t think they’ll be much surprised. You two are so close, you’re basically a couple already!” Colin quipped, causing a few giggles to erupt around them, and Paul immediately elbowed him in the side in revenge for that remark, though there was a glint in his eyes as John locked eyes with him that hadn’t been there before. But surely it was just the sense of victory he must be feeling for having successfully convinced John. They man always got what he wanted, one way or another. John didn’t know why he still tried to resist.

“We can come up with something, can’t we, Johnny?” Paul said with a wink and John swallowed thickly at that as he realised he was actually going to be Paul’s boyfriend for a day and his mind began to fill with images of what that might entail. He nodded, though his heart was pounding from a combination of fear and excitement. Either this was going to be one enormous mistake, or it was going to be one of the best Christmasses ever, and God, John hoped it was the latter. He _so_ hoped it was the latter.

***

On the day of Christmas Eve, John showed up early at Paul’s house. He had promised him to come a little earlier so he could be properly introduced to Paul’s parents as his boyfriend and get on their good side by helping out a little. Although John had quickly realised Paul was more than a little enthusiastic about having his father actually believe he was dating John Lennon, which he guessed would be the man’s greatest nightmare, he didn’t actually want to risk John losing his balls during the holidays, thinking it would ruin the Christmas spirit just a little.

John wasn’t looking forward to it, though, helping with putting up the Christmas decorations, choosing the music, setting the dining table with all those delicious foods without being allowed to nick of a few bites as a reward for his own hard work, and whatever other jobs he would be asked to do, all while Paul’s father would keep a close eye on him to make sure he wasn’t busy corrupting his eldest son. But Paul had asked him to and thus here he was: nicely dressed as Paul had requested and holding a tin of Christmas cookies he had baked himself the previous day to suck up to Mr and Mrs McCartney and convince them he was proper dating material for their precious son, even just for one evening. If only they knew what their so-called “precious” son got up to without their knowledge… perhaps they would think better of John then, because Paul really wasn’t any better. Though, then again, a lot of that probably _was_ his fault.

Taking a deep breath, he rang the doorbell and waited patiently for it to open, hoping that it would be Paul who’d get the door and not his mother or father. They had spent as much time together as they had been able to in between Paul’s exams to come up with a good and plausible story as to how they had gotten together and to lay down a few ground rules and make plans for how they were going to go about the whole thing. As far as John could tell, they had thought about everything, and yet he still felt nervous, though he wasn’t sure if it really were Paul’s parents that made him nervous, or Paul himself.

He was Paul’s boyfriend… The thought alone would have made him giggle, if it wasn’t for the nauseating tension in his stomach.

The door opened and John sighed in relief as he came face-to-face with those familiar pair of hazel eyes and that ruffled mop of almost black hair, and a smile pulled at the corners of his lips at the sight of him. When his eyes lowered to take the rest of his friend in, though…

“Oh God-” he started, staring speechless at the sweater Paul was wearing. Not to mention the rest of his… John could barely call it an outfit.

“John! I’m so glad you’re here. Come on in, mate,” Paul said before John could put words to the countless of thoughts that swirled around in his mind at that sight of that - frankly truly horrendous - sweater Paul was wearing, which, to make it even worse, did not go at all with the khaki trousers the man had on. He was pulled roughly inside and was urged to take off his coat and shoes, which he had to leave by the door, seeing as both were wet with snow..

“I was hoping you’d get here soon. Mum’s been asking about you constantly and that only puts Dad in a bad mood as you can imagine. It’s going to be better now we can share the piercing looks of disapproval, while you convince him you truly are a most wonderful boyfriend, worthy of such a great son like me,” Paul rambled on with an amused grin, not seeming to notice his friend’s shock, and he whistled lowly as he took John’s coat from him. “Looking handsome, Lennon,” he said with an appreciative smile as he gave John a once over. John, however, couldn’t say the same for him.

He had always known his friend could have a rather… questionable… sense of style, and John was often surprised at what terrible combinations of clothing Paul could come up with some days, but this… this just topped everything. He had seen Paul combine the strangest of colours, the most horrendous of patterns, had seen him wear a tie and a scarf at the same time, or two watches because he couldn’t decide which one he liked best, and John had always liked it regardless of how ridiculous it was, simply because it was Paul wearing it. But this… he needed some time to process it properly.

Paul was wearing a particularly ugly christmas sweater. It was dark blue, almost purple, which in itself wasn’t too bad, though it was a strange colour, but what truly ruined it was the ugly, traditional-looking pattern, made up of all kind of colourful Christmassy images such as gingerbread men, Santa Claus heads and Christmas trees, every image making up its own little row, which were then alternated by rows of snowflakes. It was a horrendous combination of colours and images and in itself it wouldn’t even have been _that_ awful, seeing as it _was_ a Christmas sweater, which were _meant_ to be ugly, but the tight-fitting khaki trousers Paul wore with it were a thorn in the eye and didn’t go at all in any way with the sweater. For a while, all John could do was stare.

He, meanwhile, had actually made an effort. He had even gone through the trouble of combing his hair back with some gell to keep it in place and had washed his white trousers _twice_ with the best washing powder that he had been able to find to make it as white and clean as possible. Above it he had pulled on a white dress shirt and a red sweater in true Christmas fashion. He had even put on a tie and light brown dress shoes, both of which Mimi had bought him once a few years back and he had always refused to wear until now.

And now Paul was… wearing _that_ _._ What was he thinking?!

Worst of it was, John, still, for some goddamn reason, found it _endearing_ _._ He hated himself for being this fucking _whipped ._

“Mum! Dad! John’s here,” Paul called out as he shot John another blinding smile that almost made him forget about the brutal crime against fashion that had been committed, and before John could say anything, Paul had grabbed his hand and was pulling him into the kitchen where Mary stood stirring in a large bowl of what seemed to be eggnog, while keeping a close eye on the large pan of what smelled like sweet potato soup. The whole kitchen smelled of all sorts of different kinds of foods and spices and already John’s mouth began to water at the prospect of devouring it all. He could probably even nick a few things from Paul’s plate if he asked nicely. The lad barely ate anyway.

Mary turned around with a wide friendly smile at her son’s voice and looked curiously between the two young men until her eyes fell onto their intertwined hands, as if only now realising they were actually a couple. To her knowledge at least.

Paul… _had_ told her, hadn’t he?

“John! How lovely you could come!” she said as she put everything down to greet them properly, and John was forced to let go of Paul’s hand to shake Mary’s, giving her a polite smile of his own as Paul stood next to them, watching them while looking out for his father to pop up somewhere. “Merry Christmas, darling! How’s you aunt Mimi? She doing well?”

“Yes, she’s very well, thank you,” John said and already he felt it becoming extremely difficult to keep up this fake polite manner, but he had promised Paul, so he tried his best. “I er… I brought you and Jim some home-baked Christmas biscuits for this evening. As a ‘thank you’ for having me over this year. I’m probably not what you were hoping for…”

“Nonsense! As long as Paul is happy. And thank you, John, that’s very kind of you,” Mary said as she took the tin from him, though her expression gave her surprise and slight worry away. Glancing sideways, John noticed an identical expression resting on Paul’s face as he stared at him, looking as if he feared John had lost his mind. Although John knew they had every reason to worry, seeing as it was somewhat of a Christmas miracle that Mendips hadn’t burned down to the ground during his baking attempts, he still would have appreciated a bit of good faith from Paul. He wasn’t _that_ bad… Okay, he was, but still.

Paul forced a smile as their eyes met, at least appreciating the attempt, no matter how it would turn out.

Mary meanwhile had opened the tin and was staring down at the heap of biscuits shaped in the forms of Santa heads and Christmas trees and stars that matched those on Paul’s unmentionable sweater. Some of them had ended up slightly darker than John had intended, but at least they weren’t burned, though he had needed to throw the last batch away. The icing though, had been less successful, though at least it covered up the slightly darker patches of the biscuit.

Before she or Paul could say anything about the state of them, though, Jim McCartney came in from the dining room. He paused abruptly at the sight of the two boys together, but forced a smile as Mary shot him a strict, warning glare.

“John! You are here!” he exclaimed, trying to sound warm and welcoming but still it came out more like an accusation than anything else. Still, John shook hands with him and wished him a merry Christmas, playing the role of perfect boyfriend to the best of his abilities.

“So, Paul told me you are together now!” Jim said as he released his hand and immediately Paul took it, as if to illustrate the point his father had made, and John’s heart made a little jump at the way the calluses of Paul’s fingers rubbed against his skin, rough and yet comforting. Paul was with him. They were going to be fine. It almost felt like they were actually looking for approval for their relationship and John smiled at the thought. From the corner of his eye, he could see Mary grimace before she went back to the stove to check up on the food, probably thinking he was smiling at what Jim had said. He used that thought and smiled even wider as he nodded at Jim.

“How long has that been going on, then? Mary and I were completely unaware of it till yesterday evening,” Jim asked and John tried not to look confused at the “till yesterday evening bit” as he glanced at Paul, giving him his best love-sick smile, which he didn’t even have to fake, before he answered.

“About five months now? Right, love?” he asked and Paul nodded as he tried to match John’s smile. John could see he was nervous though, and he gave his hand a comforting squeeze before he turned back to look at Jim. “I just got out of a relationship and Paul was there to comfort me and one thing led to another and then well… Here we are.”

“We didn’t want to say anything in case it wouldn’t work out,” Paul added, “not to mention that we figured you wouldn’t approve…”

“Well, I can’t say I wasn’t hoping for you to end up with someone better-” Jim started but quickly changed his tone as Mary cleared her throat and shot him a warning glare. It was obvious they had talked about how they were going to handle this, and if Mary was set on giving John the benefit of the doubt, that was wonderful news from him and Paul, and this evening could be slightly more relaxed and fun than John had feared. He seriously wanted to thank Mary right now, but bit his tongue.

“But what is most important is that our Paul is happy and if you make him happy, that is all that matters.” The words sounded terribly rehearsed coming from Jim’s mouth, but John was willing to take anything he could get and smiled broadly as he thanked him. Not being to resist at least a tiny bit of teasing, though, he let go of Paul’s hand wrapped his arm around his waist instead, pulling the younger man against him as he promised Jim he’d take good care of their beloved Paul. Paul, meanwhile, was forced to wrap his arm around John as well and John felt his heart do a little jump at the way Paul’s fingers grasped a hold onto his sweater. He felt warm against him and John couldn’t help but be surprised at the ease with which Paul slotted against him as if they had done so many times before.

The only time John could remember when he had Paul against him like this had been last New Year’s Eve when they’d both been so drunk they had needed each other to keep up right as they had tried to make their way home through the dimly lit streets of Liverpool. But they had been drunk, and it had not gone as smoothly as it had now. John couldn’t quite remember how often they had fallen down,  but most of his body had been covered in blue patches the following day, and he didn’t think it had been any different for Paul.  

“Good… I don’t expect any less,” Jim said, bringing John’s mind back to the situation at hand.  Jim didn’t look in any way happy with the way his son stood pressed up against the boy he had always thought to be the reason for any of the bad stuff that happened to Paul, though. John could almost hear the man’s silent hopes their relationship wouldn’t last and to make the whole thing even worse he pressed a gentle kiss on top of Paul’s head, causing not only Jim to sputter half-uttered objections, but Paul’s cheeks to flush pink and John didn’t know just which reaction was more worth it.

“Mum,” Paul asked, clearing his throat as he untangled himself from John, his cheeks still very much flushed, “John and I are going upstairs for a moment if that’s okay. I’ve got a present for him I’d like to give before anyone’s here.”

“Oh actually,” Mary started and John winced at what he knew was coming, resulting in a warning kick from Paul to behave, “I was hoping you boys could help with a few things. The guests will be here in an hour or so and there is still so much left to do.”

“Oh… Yeah sure, Mum,” Paul readily replied and this time it was John who kicked him.

“Paul, darling, if you could help me in the kitchen for a bit, that would be a great help. And John, if you could help Jim carry some more firewood inside for the fire, that would be wonderful. There’s also a box of records in the living room by the record player. Just pick something you like and put it on, okay? Thanks dears,” Mary said and before John knew what had happened he was standing outside with his ankles in the snow and a bunch of wooden logs in his arms.

Looking behind him he could see Paul in the kitchen, drinking something from a large mug as he spoke with his mother and helped her get the rest of the food ready, all warm and cosy with his terrible sweater, while John stood here shivering by the garden shed while Jim placed even more logs in his arms. Luckily they weren’t that big. The wind felt like ice as it rushed past him and a few tiny snowflakes fell from the sky and landed in his hair. He couldn’t wait to be back inside. With Paul... Where it was warm, and where the food was… He could still feel the warm press of his body against him when he closed his eyes. At least he had had that.

“You know how I feel about you, Lennon,” Jim suddenly spoke as he caught John staring at his son through the window, and John hastily turned back to look at him. Jim looked older as he stood there outside in the snow, his wrinkles more profound, shoulders hunched against the cold, but it didn’t make him look any less intimidating. “I promised Mary to give you a chance, and I will, but that doesn’t mean we have to lie about where we’re standing.”

He put another log in John’s arms.

“I don’t like you being around my son and you know I think you are a bad influence on him, but for some reason he likes you and to a certain extent I can understand why even if I don’t like it. My son’s happiness is most important to me, though, so all I ask of you is not to hurt him, you understand? I want you to take this relationship seriously if you _do_ have to be his boyfriend so necessarily. He seems to really like you and I don’t want to see him getting hurt.”

“Of course… I know you don’t think highly of me, but I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.  Certainly not intentionally. I’d rather hurt myself than have anything happen to him,” John said, swallowing thickly as he realised he didn’t even have to lie about that. It was scary almost… but he’d truly do almost anything for him. Which was why he was here now, having a talk to his father in the snow on Christmas Eve with a bunch of logs in his arms, while he could’ve been up in Scotland right now, nice and warm with his Aunt Mater, who always made Christmas a surprisingly nice affair - a pleasant change from those he had with Mimi whenever they wouldn’t go to Scotland for whatever reason.

“I certainly hope you mean that, John. Because otherwise-” Jim started, but John was quick to interrupt him, somewhat annoyed at the idea that he would actually willingly hurt Paul. It was a frankly outrageous thing to say and John looked Jim firmly in the eye as he spoke.

“I do!” he said with more force than he had meant, but he couldn’t hold himself back, “I wouldn’t hurt him. I would _never_ hurt him, because I love him, Jim.” _I love him ._

Jim stared blankly at John as he said that and John swallowed thickly as neither looked away from the other. Had he… meant that? He wasn’t sure himself. Somewhere he did love Paul, as a friend, and he wanted them to be more, but _love_ love… that was different. Whether he had meant it or not, Jim certainly looked taken aback by his confession and struggled for a moment with what to say.

“You…” he started, frowning, “love him?”

John nodded, figuring he might as well pull through with this now he’d said it.

“Does Paul know?” Jim asked and John shook his head, faking a small shy smile as he looked away from Jim, feigning embarrassment. God, if only acting had been this easy during the nativity play in primary school. He had only needed to play one of the sheep and even that he had fucked up. This role, however, seemed more up his alley.

“I don’t think we’re quite there yet in our relationship,” he said and Jim nodded as he hummed.

“Well… in that case… you may go back inside,” he said and with that he handed John one last log and sent him on his way back inside the house. John stood motionless for a second, surprised at Jim’s sudden change in demeanour, but eventually did as he had said, hurrying back to the house at a hurried pace and slipping back inside through the kitchen door before Jim would change his mind.

“What’s wrong with you? Did Dad try to chop your head off or something?” Paul remarked with an amused chuckle as John closed the door behind him and placed the stack of log on the floor by the door. Wiping the few snowflakes from his hair that hadn’t yet melted away due to the warmth of the kitchen, John grimaced at Paul, who stood by the stove, a healthy flush on his cheeks, holding a cup of what appeared to be hot chocolate with whipped cream in his hands. Mary was nowhere in sight, for which John was grateful.

“No. I er… he kinda told me not to hurt you, you know, and then I might have sort of told him I loved you,” John said, as he began to shrug of his coat, which he hung over the back of one of the kitchen chairs and take off his snow-covered shoes.

“You… told him you _loved_ me? Jeez, John. Think you might be laying it on a little thick or what?” Paul said, chuckling and John looked up at him as the younger man took a sip from his drink, leaving a little moustache of cream behind on his upper lip. This man… looked absolutely ridiculous. Yet, again, it left him feeling warm inside.

“Maybe? He seemed impressed though. I think, at least. He kind of just sent me away without another word, which I think might be a positive thing.”

“Isn’t our relationship going fast! Five months in and you already love me. You might have to propose to me before the evening is over.”

“Macca, baby, how could I not love you? And I gladly would, although I think actually getting married might be pushing this fake relationship a bit far, don’t you think?” John said, winking, and Paul chuckled in response, though the twinkle in his eye and slight smile on his lips made him look smug. He took a sip from his drink before licking the cream from his lip, something John wished he could have done for him. Paul’s parents weren’t here though, so he figured their relationship was put on hold until they were back, leaving him with not a single excuse to do anything like that to the other man right now. He almost wanted them here with them. If he couldn’t have Paul, though, his drink also looked more than a little tempting.

“What are you drinking then, eh? Hot chocolate? I could do with something to warm me up. It’s bloody freezing outside.” John asked, rubbing his hands together to warm them up as he walked over to Paul, eagerly eyeing said drink.  

“It’s an extra special Irish version,” Paul said before taking another sip and when John just looked confused, he added, “I secretly poured some whiskey into it when Mum left. I’d totally recommend it. Makes it even warmer.”

“Whiskey?”

“Yeah. You want some? We have to be quick, though, before Mum comes back. She never likes me drinking this early on in the evening. But it’s just too good to pass up on, really.”

“Paul, maybe you shouldn’t be drinking. I mean… you know how you get.”

“John, luv, it’s a _family_ Christmas party. Who am I going to shag? Apart from you, there’s not a soul who would be in any way sexually available to me. Besides, it’s not my first Christmas party and Mum has never even noticed,” Paul said as he turned around to grab another mug and pour John some “Irish” hot chocolate as well. John wanted to say something to argue otherwise, but his mind had gotten stuck somewhere between the words “shag” and “sexually available”, which made it incredibly difficult for his mind to come up with any reasons at all for keeping Paul from getting drunk, and thus he could only watch as Paul retrieved his hidden bottle of whiskey and poured some of it into John’s mug as well, before handing it to him with a wide smirk. _Who am I going to shag? Apart from you, there’s not a soul who would be in any way sexually available to me. Apart from you..._

“Here,” he said as he pushed the mug into John’s hand, “just try it. The worst it can do is make the whole fake relationship thing a little easier to keep up. It’ll be fine!”

Somewhere there was still a voice shouting in his head not to take it and to keep Paul from getting drunk, but another voice was shouting the words “you’re playing his bloody boyfriend, how could you not want him drunk” at a far louder volume, and thus John couldn’t do anything except take it.

“Good boy. Now come on, let’s find a nice Christmas record to put on before Mum or Dad ask us to do more jobs for them,” Paul said and quickly put the alcohol away again, before he hurried into the living room, leaving John with little choice but to follow him. Whatever a drunk Paul would mean for the course of the part, John did know that either this was going to be a great night to remember or it was going to be a disaster.

***

The living room was richly decorated, with garlands hanging above the fireplace, fairy lights lining the large set of windows at the front of the house as well as the piano, a large wreath made up of red berries and snowy pinecones hung on the door leading into the hallway, and fake foam icicles had been taped to the mirror above the fireplace. The main hanging light had been turned off and instead the room was being lit solely by the fairylights and the fireplace, as well as a few smaller lamps, such as the one by the piano and the one in the corner where the record player had been placed for the occasion, giving the room a warm and cosy glow.

Next to the record player, which appeared to have been put there solely for this festive occasion, Paul was sitting knelt on the ground with two large boxes of records in front of him, excitedly skimming through them. When he heard John’s footsteps approach, he looked up and tapped the empty spot next to him, beckoning John to sit down as well, and carefully pushed his hot chocolate a little to the side just in case. John placed his own drink on the mantelpiece and sat down onto the floor next to Paul as requested. There wasn’t a lot of space, though, and John found himself sitting pressed against Paul, and he had to put his arm behind Paul to lean on in order to keep his balance, so it looked like Paul was sitting cuddled up against John. If anyone were to come in now, they would not for a moment doubt they were a couple.

“Dad got all of these from the attic,” Paul explained, nodding at the two boxes in front of him as he flipped through a few records he had already picked out for later. He was sitting so close John could smell the scent of cranberries and pine trees on him, and John wasn’t at all surprised to learn Paul apparently used some kind of limited edition Christmas-scented soap. It smelled good, though, and John wished he could press his nose into the inviting crook of Paul’s neck to take it all in. But again, they were alone, and John had no excuse to do such a thing. He almost couldn’t wait for the guests to arrive.

“He always likes playing them with Christmas. Says it add to the atmosphere, gives it something a little more traditional and old-fashioned, you know. He likes that during Christmas, so we’re never allowed to use any of our modern electrical stuff, like tvs or our laptops or something. Mike tried to convince him to stream the music one year… Dad nearly had a fit. I get what he means though. It’s kind of nice, you know, without all that. Makes it even more special,” Paul continued, unaware of the longing way in which John was staring at him.

John hummed in agreement and curiously began to skim through the dozens and dozens of records he had to choose from and was pleasantly surprised at the broad range that was available. He had expected it to be just 40s and 50s jazz music and there were also rock ‘n roll records in there as well as stuff from the 80s and 90s, reaching all the way up to more modern music. John however, didn’t have to look for long to find the record of his choosing and he knew for certain Paul would most definitely approve.

“Any idea what record you want then?” Paul asked at the exact moment that John pulled said record from the box. With a large, excited grin, he held it up to Paul, who responded with a similar smile of his own. “I truly shouldn’t be surprised.”

“You didn’t give me a choice! If there is one record by The King, then it _has_ to be played! You know that,” John said and Paul had to agree as he took the record from John and leaned forwards to put it on. Carefully he took the record out of its cover and placed it on the turntable before he turned it on and gently placed the needle in the right place. A second later the low, almost grumbling voice of The King filled the air around them and John felt a light, familiar tingle in his pants. That man’s voice never failed to turn him on.

Glancing at Paul, who had settled back in his original spot, his shoulder almost tugged under John’s arm, he saw he was in a similar blissful state, sitting with his head thrown back, his eyes closed and  a small smile on his lips, simply taking in the music as his lips moved along with the music, whispering the lyrics back at John without a sound. When he reopened his eyes and their eyes locked, John lip-synced one of the lines to him, giving him his best little Elvis impression and Paul smiled widely at that before he replied with a line of his own. John almost couldn’t hold back the urge to kiss the other man right then and there, now they were sitting so close, with Elvis singing Christmas songs to them, and only them, in the background. The flames of the fire flickered in Paul’s eyes and lit up his face, holding John’s gaze, but once again, he couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to.

Thankfully, because John wasn’t sure how long he could have lasted looking at that man’s face without kissing it, the doorbell rang, and soon they could hear voices in the hallway, one of which was Mary’s, while the others John didn’t recognise as easily. He had met a couple of Paul’s family members during birthday parties, but he had never really interacted with them, staying mainly with his own friends. This evening, however, he was going to have to, and he couldn’t help but feel nervous.

Paul, to John’s surprise, hadn’t moved away at the sound of some of his family arriving, and had merely turned his head to the door and shuffled a little closer to John so they were sitting properly curled up together. He had even intertwined their legs and let his head rest on John’s shoulder, leaving John with no option but to remain where he was. He didn’t _want_ to move away, but if he was honest, the arm on which he was leaning was starting to complain at the weight it was supporting, but for Paul he’d try holding on a little longer.

Finally, the door opened and both John and Paul looked up simultaneously at the guests who had arrived, giving them their best “slightly embarrassed at being walked in on while being romantic and sweet together”- looks, before they hastily scrambled up - John’s arm was particularly happy about that development, though the rest of him wished he could have laid there with Paul a little longer.

John barely registered it as Paul greeted his aunt and uncle, hugging them both and wishing them a merry Christmas, before the aunt’s - John had forgotten her name almost as soon as she had said it - eyes fell on him and gave a him a good look over.

“And you must be John! Mary told me you were coming. Well you certainly are a handsome young man, aren’t you,” she said as she took John’s hand with a big smile and gave him two wet kisses on the cheek. “Our Paul sure is lucky to have found himself such a handsome man like you. Merry Christmas to you, too, and welcome to the family.”

“Thank you. Merry Christmas to you too,” John said politely, his cheeks burning up at the praise and next to him he could hear Paul holding back giggles.

“I remember having a very handsome young man in my class when I was younger who looked like you. All the girls went crazy over him, you know. I really don’t blame Paul for having fallen head over heels for you. I would have been the same. Isn’t he handsome, Harold? Oh and a good taste in music too, I hear!”

“He even kind of looks like him when he dresses up at Elvis,” Paul brought in and John knew for certain he only said it to embarrass him even more and if there hadn’t been any one watching right now, and if Paul hadn’t moved to the other side of the room to take two glasses of wine from the table, John would have hit him over the head.

“Oh, I bet he does. Oh thank you, love,” Paul’s aunt answered and smiled thankfully as Paul handed her one of the glasses, and handed the other to his uncle.

“Well, Paul,” she continued as she took a seat on the couch directly in front of the fireplace with her husband, “as far as I can tell, you’ve got a good guy here. Handsome, polite, good taste in music. I bet most girls are more than a little jealous to see him with you. I’d hold on to him, if I were you.”

“Thanks, auntie Gin. I will,” Paul said and John repeated the name a couple times over in his head in the hope to get it in there. Auntie Gin was Paul’s favourite aunt, John knew, so he figured that if there was one name he absolutely had to remember it was hers. In the end, he somewhat managed though it often took him some time to be absolutely certain.

After that more and more people began to arrive, all of whom were more than happy to meet John and most of whom commented on how handsome or polite or well-dressed he was, something that set Paul into a fit of giggles almost as easily as tickling would. Uncle Jack was next to arrive - John tried in vain to call them all by their names - who took a seat in the corner of the room, as far away from the record player as possible so people would still be able to hear him whenever he spoke.

“He was in the army,” Paul explained as he and John stood in the kitchen, cleaning a couple of cups and glasses so they could be used to again, “apparently he got stuck in a gas cloud and now he can’t speak any louder than this… He used to play in me Dad’s old band too.” John was told not to feel too bad for him, though, as most of the children loved his mysterious voice when he told them stories and jokes, and sure enough throughout the evening the man got more than enough attention from the youngest guests. His looks, which were handsome even in his old age, no doubt helped with that as well.

Everyone else arrived quickly after one another, Auntie Edie and Annie came together with their familie - Auntie Edie’s husband didn’t, though Paul and the rest of the family seemed not to acknowledge that and Paul was reluctant to talk about why, so John didn’t ask about it. Auntie Millie and Uncle Albert followed soon after, and Uncle Joe came last, but with a whole bunch of more bottles of wine, beer and whiskey, which he had carried with him on his bike.

Paul’s family always was a cheery bunch and John was glad to note most of Paul’s aunts and uncle took an immediate liking to him. Auntie Gin especially gave him lots of attention, asking him questions about how he met Paul and their relationship, from their friendship to how they had gotten together - John was glad he had Paul had thought all this up in advance or else it would have been very difficult to keep their stories straight - what he was doing for work, about his own family and what he wanted to do in the future, as well as more casual questions about music and films and books, being more than a little impressed by the amount of books John had read.

“My aunt was always an avid reader so it was just normal for me to spend entire evenings and afternoons reading. I still try to do that as often as I can, but there just seems less time for such things now. There’s nothing better than just curled up with a book and escape for a while into a different world, you know. To learn about new things and people and wait in anticipation for what will happen to the main characters. Alice in Wonderland is my favourite book, though. Always has been,” John told her as he sat with her on the couch.

They were having dinner. Jim had prepared a large buffet which Mary had set up in the dining room so people could simply get what they liked. John was having a nice bowl of hot sweet potato soup with some home-made bread, while Paul sat next to him, enjoying his plate of chestnuts and brussels sprouts with roasted potatoes, which he occasionally would feed to John, claiming his mother had put far too much on his plate. John hardly thought she had, but didn’t say anything as long as it meant that Paul would be feeding him by hand, holding out chestnuts and sprouts for him and waiting for him to open his mouth so he could gently pop them inside. Paul’s aunt Millie thought this to be absolutely adorable and kept sighing as she looked at them, which seemed to drive Jim up the wall, making it all the more fun for John and Paul.

The man seemed highly annoyed with the fact that most of the family had taken an instant liking to John, and John often caught him sulking in a corner as another one of Paul’s family members muttered something about how cute the two of them were together. All in all, John was, surprisingly enough, enjoying himself greatly and even wasn’t worried about Paul drinking anymore. He was taking it slow, and although the alcohol had clearly turned Paul more clingy and… let’s call it romantic… around John, it indeed just made their relationship more believable.

After dinner, John and Paul helped Mary with clearing away the dishes and place some sweets and other snacks on the table, while Jim turned off the record player and took a seat behind the piano to play a couple tunes. Pretty soon John could hear singing coming from the living room and Paul was happily humming along as well as he did the dishes and occasionally took a sip from his large glass of mulled wine, not wanting it to go cold. The whole family was singing Christmas carols and John had never quite experienced something as magical as that. His family was never this musical and outgoing with one another, but hearing this, John could understand why Paul actually enjoyed spending time with his family. They were a warm, kind and welcoming family, and John felt a pleasant warmth spread through his belly as he looked at Paul,  though he partly blamed that on the alcohol.  

When their eyes met and Paul caught him staring, Paul blew some soap bubbles into his direction.

“You’re dreaming, Lennon,” he said, chuckling as John simply let the bubbles hit him in the face, blinking rapidly as they popped. He blew a few bubbles into his direction as well in response, smiling as a few of them simply got caught in his hair and remained there.

“Just thinking… my family would never be this accepting of you if I were to take you home for Christmas,” he said as he reached out to prick every bubble in Paul’s hair.

“Yeah… they’re a little overexcited, I suppose,” Paul said with a shrug as he took another sip from his drink, almost sounding apologetic. John shook his head.

“No. I like it.”

“You’re enjoying yourself then?” Paul asked, smirking as he took a step closer to John, taking his hand from where he was still poking at the bubbles in his hair, and John swallowed thickly as the glanced down at where Paul had intertwined their fingers.

“Yeah… I am. Surprisingly, enough,” he answered truthfully and Paul smiled as he squeezed his hand.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said and John smiled back as he too took a step forward as well, his eyes now locked onto Paul’s which almost seemed to call him to him, beckoning him over, inviting him.

Suddenly, though, John was met with a hand full of bubbles as Paul pushed them into his face, causing John to cry out and jerk away in surprise, his hand releasing Paul’s as he hurriedly began wiping the bubbles away. Paul was laughing hysterically, his hand before his mouth to muffle his giggles as he watched John struggle.

“You’re face! You should see your face!” he cried, still laughing and John gently pushed at the man’s shoulder in return before he grabbed one of the tea towels to dry his face.

“Not fair, McCartney!”

“Oh come on! That was funny,” Paul said, chuckling, but before John could do anything in return to take his revenge, they were interrupted by two of Paul’s youngest cousins running into the kitchen, assumably having been drawn there by their laughter. They jumped at Paul, their tiny hands grasping at his clothes and arms and chest and shoulders to hold onto him they almost began to climb him like monkeys.

“What are you two doing?” the little girl asked and Paul easily picked her up and put her on his hip as he pushed the boy off his shoulder and back onto the ground, where he began to clutch at his leg instead.

“Mum told us to come get you. We’re singing Christmas carols!” the boy explained and John watched in wonder as Paul picked up his glass and started walking out of the kitchen and into the dining room as if it was nothing, the little boy dragging at his left leg.

“Well in that case we should come too, then, shouldn’t we? Come, John! You heard these two little monkeys. We’re singing Christmas carols!” Paul exclaimed, flashing John a grin before turning back to the girl and whispering something in her ear that made her giggle like an 11-year-old boy who had first found out what sex was.

It was always astonishing to John to see how good Paul was with children, seeing as he never had a clue what to do with them himself. But Paul seemed to be a natural, moving them around as easily as if he were handling inanimate objects instead of screaming mischievous and above all extremely agile children. He easily made his way into the living room where the rest of the family had gathered around the piano and were merrily singing songs as they enjoyed a drink. Two of them - John guessed they were aunt Millie and uncle Albert - where gently swaying to the music, which caused cries of disgust from the children.

Paul flopped down onto the couch with them, and started singing along as well as he began tickling the girl all over, which the boy seemed to think was extremely funny. It was great to just stand a little further away, leaning against the wall by the fire and watch Paul muck about with them, pretending to know the girl had been bad and thus would not get any presents this year, while the girl insisted she _had_ been good and begged him to release her. Eventually the boy decided to switch sides and began to help his sister by jumping on Paul, wrapping his arms around his neck as he tried to pull him off her and Paul, in a manner that was a little too dramatic, let himself be overpowered by the two children. They pinned him to the couch and Paul sneakily wrapped his arms around the both of them until he had a firm hold on them, forcing them to calm down as he shushed them and softly started singing again, encouraging the two to do the same.

John, who had expected them to just jump at Paul again, was surprised when the children actually did as Paul had said and began to sing along as well, occasionally changing up the words into something more naughty, to which Paul would react extremely aghast, humouring them. Once the children were sweetly singing along and sticking to the right lyrics, Paul’s eyes fell onto John and beckoned him over.

He looked thoroughly ruffled, with his hair sticking out in all sort of directions, his sweater ruffled, his cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkling in excitement. John’s mind couldn’t help but go to other, less child-friendly, places at the sight of him, but did as Paul had asked and took a seat next to him. He flushed as Paul hauled one of the kids onto his knee so he could lean against John’s chest as they sat together. The boy barely seemed to mind this change of position and was happily bouncing up and down as he sang along. The girl, however, was watching John with intrigue.

“Are you Paul’s boyfriend?” she asked, her eyes narrowing, and John was momentarily at a loss for words as Paul glanced up at him by cocking his head back, a little smirk on his lips, waiting for him to answer.

“I er… Yes, I suppose I am,” he said and the girl hummed thoughtfully at that. Still, though, she seemed not completely satisfied with this new knowledge she had received.

“Do you love him?” she asked next and John sputtered something unintelligible at that as Paul began to giggle at him in amusement. John wanted to curse him, but with the kids around, he had to keep his language PG and he wasn’t going to waste his single f-word on this.

“I er… I mean… I guess, so, yeah?” he said, secretly slapping Paul as he only started giggling more, making sure the children didn’t see.

“Does that mean you’ll get married just like mummy and daddy did?”

“Well… I don’t know… maybe later. I mean, usually people wait a little before they do that,” John explained and Paul nodded in agreement. The girl, however, looked a little let down.

“Oh…” she said and frowned deeply for a moment, before she cocked her head and looked back up at him. “Does that mean you’re the mummy?”

Paul could barely hold back his laughter as that and had to bite down his fist to keep himself from laughing too loudly. John could feel his body shaking against him and he was seriously going to kill him for this later.

“Well-”

“Yes, he is!” Paul was quick to interrupt and groaned painfully as John hit his side in return. The girl, however, to John’s horror, was already nodding in understanding.

“Oh, I get it then!” she said proudly, and before she could get up to run off to God knows where children were always running off to when you wanted to stay where they were for once, John grabbed her arm and gently pulled her back on the couch.

“No! I’m not!” he said, and sighed as Paul only started laughing louder. Before he could interrupt him again, however, John smiled at the young girl who was watching him with even more confusion, and started to explain. “Paul here was just making a joke. No. Sometimes, yeah, sometimes, there can be _two_ daddies or _two_ mommies. That’s what Paul and I would be, see? Your mummy is a girl and your daddy is a boy, but Paul and I are both boys, so we’re both daddies, yeah?”

“Daddies,” Paul muttered softly, giggling, and John hit him again. The girl, thankfully, didn’t notice and only nodded in understanding as a bright smile flashes across her face.

“So, if I got a girlfriend who was a girl,” the girl started and John nodded sweetly to tell her it was alright to continue, “she and I would both be mummies?”

“Exactly!” John cried and subconsciously wrapped his arm around Paul’s waist as the man rolled over and started moving his way up John’s body, draping himself on top of him as he wrapped his arm around his neck and rested his head on John’s shoulder, curling up closely against him almost like a cat. The boy readily slid off Paul’s knee and sat down onto John’s stretched out legs instead.

“Good,” the girl said, “girls are better anyway.”

“No, they’re not!” the boy cried out at that, more forcefully than either John or Paul had expected. “Boys are better! Paul thinks so too. That’s why he has a boyfriend.”

“No, girls are! Paul just couldn’t get a girl, so he had to settle for a boy, because girls know girls are better anyway.”

“That hurts, that,” Paul muttered at John as they continued to watch the two children argue. “I could get a girl. Not that I don’t like being here with you, mind.” He  snuggled up even closer to John, raising his head to look at him through his lashes and John found himself momentarily lost in his eyes as he, in that moment, actually found himself believing that - that Paul preferred having him here to any other girl he could have had instead.

A particularly loud scream made him look up in shock, though, and he watched with wide eyes as the two children continuously shouted “boys”, “girls” back and forth to each other.

“You dealt with them pretty well,” Paul mused as he rubbed his head against John’s shoulder.

“I think I caused a row.”

“That or you made them both realise they are actually gay. Perhaps a little early, but y’know…”

“Would your aunt mind?”

“Nah… she’ll probably just find it funny,” Paul said and pressed a little kiss to the underside of John’s jaw, causing John to jerk under him in surprise and Paul giggled at his reaction.

“What a terrible boyfriend you are, reacting like that from just a little kiss from the guy you’ve been shagging over the last five months,” he murmured, pressing down a second kiss onto the same spot again and John couldn’t hold back the sigh that escaped his lips in return. God, he was so fucking glad he hadn’t stopped Paul from drinking.

“Kids! Come on, stop arguing! And leave the two boys alone for a moment, yeah?” One of Paul’s aunts - John didn’t want to look which one, as that meant looking away from the handsome man who was still kissing his jaw and whispering teasing little things to him that no one else could hear - called out and the two children reluctantly did as told, stumbling over to the piano or wherever else, John didn’t care.

“Merry Christmas, Johnny,” Paul whispered as he finally took his lips away and instead slid his fingers into his hair as he laid his head back against the other man’s shoulder, with a content little smile on his lips. All John could do was stare for a moment and by the time he had found his voice again to say something similar, Jim called out for Paul.

“Paul! I need to use the loo, and I wouldn’t mind a drink either. How about you play a couple of songs till I come back?” he asked and John silently cursed the old man as Paul immediately pulled away and began to get up.

“Ah, Jim, let the boys be for a moment. They’ve been helping out so well all day. Maybe someone else could-” Auntie Gin started, but before she could suggest anyone to play piano in Paul’s stead, Paul was already up on his feet and approaching the piano, drink in hand. Looking at him now, the effect of the alcohol began to become more clear with the way the man moved, sluggish and slightly clumsily, though no one seemed to find this strange. Then again, most of his family members had been drinking without much restraint, so maybe it wasn’t that strange for Paul to get a little drunk during parties like this.

“No, no! I’ll play for a bit. Any requests?” Paul asked and Jim slapped him good-humouredly on the shoulder as Paul took his seat at the piano. He mindlessly played a few notes to get a feel for it before expectantly looking around him for requests.

“Oh, do White Christmas! You always do that one so well,” someone suggested and Paul readily complied, giving it his best Bing Crosby impression, with the low, smokey jazz voice, which got quite a few chuckles from the people around them.

John continued watching from a distance, the couch being way too comfortable to get up from. Moreover, he had a way better view from here anyway, as he could easily see the side Paul’s face from here, which would have been far more difficult if he had been standing between all of Paul’s family members. He always loved listening to Paul play, thinking he was a way better singer, musician, and entertainer than John could ever be, even if Paul would never let John say it. He’d tell him not to be silly, that he was a fantastic singer and that he likes the songs he wrote and that he always looked up to him, but John knew it couldn’t be true.

Paul had always been better than him in that regard and throughout the years it had only gotten more obvious. Even during the time when they’d had that band together - a miserable attempt to get famous and, most importantly, not have to get a job or something horrid like that - John knew Paul would probably be better off without him. John even dared to say the man might have made it if it wasn’t for him dragging him down. But Paul would never hear a word about it.

For a moment their eyes locked as Paul glanced over to see him watching him and a winked as he transitioned smoothly into Elvis’s version of I’ll Be Home for Christmas, before cheering things up with a rendition of Jingle Bell Rock, and finally finishing it up by playing Dean Martin’s Silver Bells at his mother’s request, who said it had always been one of her favourites. Just to please her, he played it twice over and was rewarded with a large kiss on the cheek. Once he had finally been released again, he moved to get up, but before he could, one of his aunts pressed him back in his seat and turned around to John.

“You play too, don’t you, John?” she asked and John helplessly glanced at Paul for help, but he just shrugged in response.

“Erm… I’m not much of a piano player, though,” he said, but Paul’s aunt waved that objection away.

“Doesn’t matter. You sing, though, don’t you? Mary said you and Paul had been in a band together. How about you and Paul sing something for us together? Paul can play the piano if you’re more comfortable with that, can’t you, dear?” she turned to Paul for that last and the man shrugged against as he turned back around to face the piano. Seeing he had no other choice but to do as asked, John reluctantly got up from the couch and took a seat next to Paul by the piano.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, you know,” Paul said, but John forced a smile and said it was fine. Paul nodded and gave him one more encouraging smile as he placed his hands on the keys and began to play a most familiar and gentle tune which John recognised right away. Sighing, he watched Paul closely as he sang the first couplet.

 

> _Chestnuts roasting on an open fire_  
>  _Jack Frost nipping at your nose_  
>  _Yuletide carols being sung by a choir_  
>  _And folks dressed up like Eskimos_  
>  _Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe_  
>  _Help to make the season bright_ _  
> _ _Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow_ _  
> _ Will find it hard to sleep tonight

Then he joined in, taking the second couplet for himself, as he kept his eyes fixed onto Paul, trying to forget about the people around them, watching them, watching him, so it was just him and Paul, like they had sung so many times before, together at the piano or on Paul’s bed with their guitars on their laps. It went well that way, the only note his missed being one when he caught Paul glancing back at him, cheeks flushed from the alcohol he had been confusing and eyes twinkling happily as he played the song tenderly and with ease, guiding John’s voice where it was supposed to go, holding him up, before joining him for the verse, their voices melting together to create a perfect harmony.

 

> _And so I'm offering this simple phrase_  
>  _To kids from one to ninety-two_ _  
> _ _Although it's been said many times, many ways_ _  
> _ Merry Christmas to you

People around them clapped as they finished the song, but John barely heard them as he just continued watching Paul, who looked more than pleased at the attention they were given for their “lovely rendition. Truly marvelous, boys”. Before anyone could ask them to do another song, though, the two boys hurried to get off the seat and Paul insisted his father to play them all some more, which the man was more than happy to do.

“I’m going to get something to drink. You want something too, John?” Paul asked as he refused the request from one of his uncles to at least sing one last song, and John eagerly nodded in response.

“Yeah. Hold on, I’m coming with you,” he said as he snatched his glass from the coffee table and hurried after Paul into the kitchen, trying not to skip as he heard people praise his voice and how perfect he and Paul were together. _If only that was true,_ he thought, but he didn’t let it get to him.

As soon as he got near the kitchen door, a hand reached out for him from behind the doorway and grabbed his by his tie, pulling him inside and against the rest of body to which the hand belonged, before the door was kicked shut behind him.

“Hi!” Paul said when their eyes finally met and smiled at him before he reached behind him and grabbed a glass from the counter against which he was leaning, which he then handed to John.

“Merry Christmas,” he said again and John frowned at the glass as he took it, eyeing Paul cautiously.

“So you’ve said. Champagne?” He sniffed the drink just to make sure and Paul nodded as he got himself a glass as well.

“Mum has them ready for after Dad’s done singing Christmas songs, but I’m sure she won’t mind us taking one now.”

“Any reason for taking one now and not later with the others?” John asked with a chuckle as he stepped away from Paul and moved to stand next to him instead. Paul, however, refused to let him go, and merely switched their positions. Clearly, the alcohol was getting to him. Even his nose was getting a little red, which John thought was simply adorable. One downside of having Paul pressed up against him like this, however, was that he had been drinking himself, and his body was responding eagerly to the man’s warm touch. Almost too eagerly.

Paul shrugged at his question and placed his free hand on the kitchen counter, locking John even more in place so he couldn’t leave without actually having to push Paul away.

“Just wanted to celebrate our rather successful fake relationship: people are loving you and my father hates it, so it’s practically perfect. You should’ve seen his face when he came in to see us singing behind the piano!” Paul laughed at that and John smiled at the sight of him, thinking him exceptionally beautiful up this close and laughing, clearly more than a little tipsy and wonderfully happy. He loved seeing him happy.

“Well, in that case,” he said, raising his glass, “cheers to us.”

“To us,” Paul repeated with another giggle and clinked their glasses together for a toast, before he took a sip, his eyes firmly fixed on John’s as he watched him do the same. “Christmas is so much better with you here, you know that?”

“That’s what I’m here for,” John replied, grinning, and Paul hummed as he finally stepped away and leaned against the counter next to John instead. He mindlessly played with his glass as he got lost in thought for a moment.

“Paul?”

“Nothing… Come on, let’s go back to the others. It sounds like they’ve finally finished singing. Mum’s going to be in here soon to get the drinks, so it’s better we’re gone before she can ask us to help again,” Paul said as he pushed himself away from the counter and offered John his hand to take, which the man did with a smirk. “Worst part is over now, now we only have to keep this up.”

“Judging from the amount of alcohol you’ve already consumed, I’d say that shouldn’t be a problem,” John said and Paul gasped dramatically at that.

“And what exactly are we implying, Mr Lennon?”

“You know what I’m implying,” John replied easily and Paul dramatically turned away from him with a tut as he started making his way out of the kitchen and into the dining room, where people were once again walking around, getting snacks and refreshments.

“I have never been so insulted in my life! And I thought I was here with a gentleman!” Paul cried before he pushed his way inside and John quickly followed him, chuckling.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll treat you right,” he said and Paul smiled at that.

“You’d better,” he said with a wink and took his hand again,  pulling him with him to the window, a little away from the others and by the large Christmas tree, which shined light in all sort of pretty colours. Outside, it had started to snow and John and Paul stood in silence for a moment, watching as it fell and covered the ground outside, placing their glasses on the windowsill. It had been a while since they had had a white Christmas. In fact, John could barely remember the last time it had snowed on Christmas Eve, but it made the whole evening even more special.

“Seriously, though, John, I’m glad you came. It’s nice like this, being with someone for once. I mean, even if we’re not actually together, you’re still my best mate.”

“Going soft, are you, Macca?” John joked, but Paul nudged him with his elbow in his response.

“Just blame it on the alcohol, okay,” he said, and John nodded, thinking that was fair. “But I do mean it. It’s nice with you here. Usually it’s Mike whose the one with the girlfriend and gets away with just curling up on the couch or whatever. Now it’s me. Of course, it’s my own fault, but… Just yeah… Thanks for doing this, I guess, is what I’m trying to say. I know you had other plans.”

“Don’t sweat it, Paul. My family isn’t half as great as yours. And I’m happy to be here. It’s fun actually,” John said and before he had even finished the sentence he knew he shouldn’t have said that last.

“Oh, you like it eh? Pretending to be my boyfriend. Getting me to curl up on the couch with you, play with your hair, kiss your jaw,” he said, grinning and John flushed at that and nudged his friend in return.

“Oh, shut up.”

“No, don’t worry. I get it. I _am_ exceptionally handsome and incredibly sexy. No wonder you like it,” Paul teased and John rolled his eyes at that and just ignored him. Looking up above them, though, John noticed something green hanging down above their heads. Frowning, he had another look and felt himself freeze as he realised what it was.

_Mistletoe._

“This has to be a fucking joke,” John muttered as he stared at the offensive piece of greenery.

“What?” Paul asked, turning his head to look at him and glanced up as well to see what John was looking at. “Oh…”

“Why the fuck do you have mistletoe hanging from your ceiling at a family Christmas party?!” John asked and Paul giggled at that, stepping a little closer to John as he shrugged.

“I think Mum just likes the look of it,” he said still giggling and when John lowered his eyes to look at him, he merely grinned at him, as if daring him to actually do it.

“Paul…” he said, his voice silent as he glanced around him to see that most people were too caught up in their own conversations to notice the two young men standing by the window, though two of Paul’s aunts were looking curiously into their direction and started notifying anyone near them, adoring smiles on their faces.

“Well? What are you going to do about it, Johnny?” Paul asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, as he took a step closer to him. He let his left hand rest on the windowsill next to his drink, while the other came up to curl around John’s wrist, gently urging him to come closer and John easily took a step towards him. By now he could hear some gasps and whispers from the other guests and his cheeks heated up at the idea that they were being watched… him and Paul… together… under the mistletoe… He briefly wondered if Jim would intervene, just out of principle. He could see him standing on the other side of the room, talking to Paul’s uncle Jack, though his eyes were fixed onto his son and his boyfriend.

“Paul-” he said again, for no reason at all, and felt his throat constrict as Paul kept his eyes fixed directly onto his, that little grin still on his lips, and John wanted to kiss it off; he knew he could. He could blame it on the mistletoe if Paul would get mad at him afterwards. Keeping up appearances and all that.

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, but finally, it was Paul and not him, who took the initiative.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he could hear Paul mutter, though he wasn’t sure if he was saying it to him or himself, and before John knew it, Paul had leaned in and pressed his lips against his, his arms coming up to tangle around John’s neck, holding him in place, as if to make sure he wouldn’t pull away. John didn’t even want to pull away. Not when it was Paul kissing him. Fuck… _Paul…_ His hands drifted from his sides onto Paul’s and he held him gently by his waist as he let Paul kiss him, moaning lightly at the feeling of Paul’s hot breath on his lips, his body pressed against his, his fingers in his hair and _fuck…_

It was over too soon, and John found himself following Paul as the man began to pull back, causing him to chuckle, but more out of fondness than anything else as he pressed his forehead against John’s for a moment, giving them both some time to catch their breath for which John was thankful, because his mind felt like it was swimming in another other dimension and his body felt hot were it were still pressed against Paul’s.

“Take that old man,” he heard Paul whisper, and too soon Paul pulled away. John wanted to reach out for him, but found himself unable to move, half scared of rejection, fearing that he’d be pushing it. Then he opened his eyes and caught Paul grinning at him, a pink flush on his cheeks from what John guessed was the alcohol he’d been consuming, and fuck, he wanted to get drunk on Paul… wished that would be possible, to suck the alcohol out of him. Paul shot him one last smile and wink, before he took a hold of his glass again and took another sip.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, and before John could say anything in return, he had cocked all of his drink and started heading back into the kitchen, leaving John highly confused behind under the mistletoe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! I hope you're all having fun celebrating and I wish you all the best for the new year. Let's make it a good one (especially after the last two years...) 
> 
> Here is the second part of this story. It's really long, so I hope you enjoy it. Again, it was written on a deadline, so I hope it lives up to your expectations. I'm a little nervous. 
> 
> Anyway, Happy New Year! See you all in 2018 !

For a while, John didn’t move. He stood stuck to the ground where Paul had kissed him, lips tingling, hands dropped at his sides, his mind still swirling, and unable to move even a limb. Paul had  _ kissed _ him. The thought made him want to giggle, but his jaw was clenched tight and his throat felt like it was being squeezed shut by something from the inside out. Around him people were smiling as they spoke to each other and John could hear them whisper, saying how adorable the two of them were together and how nice it was to see Paul with another person like that, someone he, for as far as they could see, truly loved. Jim, however, was nowhere to be seen, probably having slipped off somewhere so he didn’t have to see them kiss. John just hoped he hadn’t gone to the kitchen as well, just as Paul had done, there being no doubt in his mind he and Paul would be in the middle of an argument right now if he had. 

Paul had  _ kissed  _ him. The sentence repeated itself in his head every so often, sounding both wonderful and utterly ridiculous at the same time. But it had happened. Paul  _ had _ kissed him. On the lips and everything. 

Finally, once he had regained the ability to move at least the upper portion of his body, John picked up his glass again and took a couple of quick sips, needing the alcohol to process what had happened. Of course they had discussed the eventuality of a kiss beforehand, so it hadn’t come completely out of nowhere, but they had agreed not to take it that far unless they would absolutely need to, figuring that a kiss on the cheek or something would usually suffice as well. But now Paul had actually gone and kissed him, and God… it had felt good: soft lips, warm breath, calloused fingers running through his hair as his hands had cupped the back of his neck, his body pressed firmly against his. Just thinking about it made John breathless.

He took another sip from his champagne and turned to look outside, leaning with his elbow on the windowsill as he watched the snow fall and tried to ignore his own reflection staring back at him. It proved impossible though, and John found himself staring at it, wide-eyed and pale except for the flush on his cheeks. Soon it was joined by the reflection of another person, another man, older, with deep wrinkles on his face which could not have formed just because of old age, as they were too deep for a man his age. Nevertheless, the man was still exceptionally handsome and John could see from which side of the family Paul got his good looks from. 

“John?” the reflection spoke, the voice barely louder than a gruff whisper, as if his vocal chords had been completely smoked through, which John guessed wasn’t far from the truth. He turned his head to look at the man directly as he came to stand next to him, leaning with his shoulder against the wall in the exact spot where Paul had stood not moments ago. He frowned as he saw the look on John’s face. 

“Are you okay?” he asked with a chuckle, “You look a little startled.” 

“What? Oh yeah, I’m fine,” John answered right away, forcing a smile as he tried to remember the man’s name. It lay on the tip of his tongue, but remembering names had never been his strong point. That is, remembering things in general had never been his strong point. He tried through, tonight. For Paul. “Just enjoying my drink.”

“Left by the altar, are you?” the man asked, chuckling and John shrugged as he forced a smile in response, not wanting Paul’s uncle to think anything was up. 

“You know, if it’s Jim you’re worried about,” Uncle Jack - John had suddenly remembered again - suggested after a moment of silently studying John, and John tensed up at the mention of Paul’s father as he turned to look out of the window again, “he’ll come around. I know he doesn’t much approve of you, but a good kid, John. He’ll see that eventually once he’s realised how much you care for our Paul, and how much he cares for you.” 

“Oh, but I’m really not, though,” John said, laughing as he shook his head. “Trust me, if Paul’s dad’s right about one thing, it’s about me. I’m a fuck-up. Simple as that. I don’t blame Jim for not wanting to me around. Paul could do much better than me.”

“Now, I wouldn’t say that,” Uncle Jack said, tutting as he took a sip from his drink, and paused for a moment to catch John’s attention. Sure enough John glanced at him as he waited for him to continue. “Mary told me you worked for the newspaper.”

“Only as an assistant,” John said with a shrug. “All I do is get self-important people their coffees and lunches, and write their emails whenever they’re too lazy to do that themselves. Not to mention that the pay isn’t great. I’m still living with my aunt…” 

“Well, many people your age still live at home nowadays. And it’s got some status, working for the newspaper, not to mention opportunities.” 

“Not for me. There’s not much they can offer you when you don’t have some kind of degree or other piece of paper to wave around in their faces. Like I said, Jim’s right… there’s nothing I’d be able to offer Paul if-” he swallowed down the rest of the words. He had almost made a slip of the tongue, and if one person were to find out that he and Paul weren’t actually dating and he was just a friend with a pathetic crush… that would not go over well. He took a deep breath before he spoke again. “They offer some courses, though, as well as other ways of getting the education required, in case you’d want to move up to something better.” 

“And you’re thinking of doing that,” Uncle Jack said, sounding more like he was making an observation than asking a question. John shrugged, then nodded, then shook his head and shrugged again. 

“Maybe? I don’t know. It’s not that I want to keep doing this job forever and they’d pay part of my tuition if I were to study journalism at university, which I could even do part time alongside my regular job, but...”

“Sounds like a good opportunity. Jim would appreciate it, I know that.”

John hummed in agreement. 

“Still, you should only do it if you want to, which I think you do, but if it matters, I don’t think Paul would care either way as long as you’re happy. There is plenty a person can bring to a relationship that isn’t money or financial security. Besides, once Paul finishes university and gets a job as a teacher like he intends to do, he’ll earn enough for the both of you if necessary. If he truly loves you, which I think he does, he doesn’t care how much you can ‘offer’.”

“You think he loves me then?” John asked and Uncle Jack smiled gently as he nodded. 

“At the least he’s very fond you. More so perhaps than you might think. I’ve known the lad all his life, watched him grow up and all that. He used to come and visit all the time as a kid and still does occasionally, though obviously far less frequently. But I know him well, and I can see when he’s truly interested in someone. The way he looks at you… He’s never quite looked anyone like that before, and I know what that look means, John. You ought to give yourself more credit then I do, dear boy.”

“Maybe…” John replied and tried to repress a smirk, feeling proud at the ease with which he and Paul had managed to fool everyone and convince them they truly were dating. But at the same time he couldn’t help the little hopeful jump his heart made at Uncle Jack’s words. The man seemed genuinely certain of himself, which put John off, making him reconsider. But of course that was foolish in itself, to actually think Paul was in love with him. It was stupid. 

Finishing his drink, he glanced over into the direction of the kitchen, wondering what Paul was up to. He had expected him to come back, but at least ten, perhaps fifteen minutes must have gone by since he had left him standing here. 

“I er… should go look for Paul,” he said, turning back to Paul’s uncle with an apologetic smile. “Before the poor lad drinks himself into a stupor or something.” The man just smiled and nodded, though, not seeming to mind at all and raising his glass as a kind of toast, to which John replied with a nod of his own, before he headed towards the kitchen, hoping Paul would still be there. Preferably alone. 

Uncle Jack’s words remained on his mind though as John maneuvered through the large group of people that blocked his way to the kitchen, and he couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps he was right. That maybe Paul did have feelings for him and that the way he was acting towards him wasn’t merely an act, or merely a way of fooling his parents and drive his father up the wall, but an expression of how he truly felt about him. 

Far more likely, John was just being stupid for thinking that and his own messy feelings were interfering with his perception of the situation. The fact that Paul’s uncle thought Paul was actually in love with him only proved that their little act was working as hoped. They were meant to think Paul was in love with him, and this whole thing between the two of them, including the kiss, was just an act and it was working. That was all. To think any else was foolish.  

Once John had reached the door to the kitchen, he noticed it stood slightly ajar, so he gently pushed it open and glanced inside, wanting to make sure Paul was actually there and see, if so, if he was alone or not before going in himself. 

As he had thought, Paul was still there, standing with his back towards him, pouring himself another drink. John couldn’t see the bottle, but knowing Paul, he didn’t doubt it was whiskey, probably mixed in with some coke, the lad’s favourite and go-to drink. More importantly, though, he was alone, the kitchen being completely empty apart from him. 

Taking a deep breath, John pushed the door further open and slipped inside, making sure to shut the door behind him, so people wouldn’t hear them talk and he and Paul would hear if someone were to come in. The sound of the door closing, however, also alerted Paul and he glanced over his shoulder to see who it was, smiling when he noticed John.

“You finally decided to show up then, eh?” he said and placed the bottle down beside him. It was whiskey, as John had thought. “D’you want a drink?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Paul said, and winked at John, before picking up his drink and cocking it all back, finishing it in one go, before turning back around to pour himself another. John raised an eyebrow at this, but decided not to ask. “What took you so long?”

“Been talking to your uncle Jack. ‘Bout me job and all that shite,” John answered, frowning at the Paul, who didn’t look at all concerned about what had happened in the other room not fifteen minutes ago. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but for Paul to just continue on so readily after that, without so much as recognising it had happened, was… not what he had expected. Slowly, he approached Paul and came to stand next to him, leaning against the kitchen counter as he studied his face. When he caught him looking, Paul snickered and shook his head. 

“Did you two talk about me?” he asked, smirking knowingly and when John looked away from him as he muttered an almost inaudible “of course” back, he rolled his eyes and nudged John’s ankle with his foot to get his attention again.

“You’re not going to act all weird about it, are you?” he asked, and although he sounded light-hearted, he didn’t sound in any way mocking. Still, John pretended not to know what he was talking about. 

“About what?”

“About the kiss. Because it’s not a big deal, you know. It’s just a kiss. It got Dad pretty good too, though. Did you see?” 

John shook his head. 

“No. He was already gone when I looked,” he explained and Paul hummed as he took a sip from his drink and John was glad to note it was just a sip this time. 

“Poor man basically fled the room when I kissed you. Like I said, totally worth it,” he said and topped up his glass again, before putting the bottle away completely. Although John knew he shouldn’t be policing the man’s drinking habits as much as he was, seeing as Paul was an adult and under no obligation at all to do anything John told him too, even if it was just out of worry, he couldn’t quite help himself. He seemed to be handling himself just fine, though. 

When Paul caught him staring for a second time, he smiled and moved to stand next to John, his side pushed up against John’s as he leaned with his back against the counters as well, mirroring his position. 

“Listen,” he said, his carefree and almost euphoric expression fading as he became more serious, “I know we said we wouldn’t do any real kissing unless it was absolutely necessary, but this was such a situation, okay? What else could I have done? I couldn’t just have walked away! You  _ are _ my boyfriend after all.” He winked at John at the last and John chuckled at that too, nodding his head. 

“I know. Just hadn’t expected it, is all. I mean… mistletoe?!” 

“Yeah… didn’t see that one coming either. But really, it was just a kiss. It only means something when you want it to mean something,” Paul said and John hummed at that as he nodded, though that was exactly what the problem was. He did want it to mean something, and he wanted it to mean something to Paul as well, like Uncle Jack had said. He glanced sideways at Paul’s drink and took it from him, taking a sip as if it was the most normal thing in the world to do. To his surprise, Paul just let him and didn’t even say anything as watched John take another sip, showing no intention of taking his glass back. 

“Anyway,” John said, slightly confused at Paul’s lack of reaction, “I’m not going to be all weird about it. Like you said, it’s just a kiss. Not a big deal.”

“So you’d let me do it again if we had to? Kiss you, I mean,” Paul asked, grinning mischievously as he easily took his glass back from John, taking a big gulp himself and moving it out of John’s reach in case he would reach for it again.  

“Maybe? We’ve already done it once now anyway, right? A second or third time hardly matters, does it?” John said, trying to keep his voice under control as he said that, secretly hoping that Paul would, although he knew he was only testing him. Paul, however, hummed and leaned a little closer to him, moving into his personal space. 

“That’s true…” he mused and John felt his cheeks heat up his eyes subconsciously darted down to Paul’s lips, which looked even fuller now than usual, more kissable. “So, what did you say to Uncle Jack about me?”

“No, we just talked about my job. I er… I’ve been thinking of going to study journalism at university. Maybe. I- I don’t know yet for sure, but… I’m considering it.”

“That’s what you want to do then? Become a journalist? Not that I don’t think it’s a good idea, of course…  I just didn’t think that’s what you wanted,” Paul asked, genuinely surprised and John didn’t blame him. Over the last few years, Paul had had to listen to him complain about journalists and how much he hated his job more than anyone else. Not to mention that it was hardly a secret John absolutely despised school. 

“No. I don’t really. I mean, not in the sense you’d think. Like, I don’t want to be a correspondent or anything like that. But, I mean, I have to do  _ something _ and if I go to university, then with a few more years of experience, I could become a columnist and write opinion pieces or something like that,” John explained and Paul chuckled at the prospect.

“Oh, I can certainly see you doing that! You have plenty to say already, so I guess it’ll be second nature for you,” he said and John laughed, knowing Paul was right. Maybe he ought to. After all, if he didn’t like it, he could always quit. And there was no way he was going to bring people coffee for the rest of his life. 

“Dad would approve,” Paul continued next with a smirk. “As would Mimi, of course. It’d give her something to boast about. Seriously though, John, I would do it if I were you. Besides, university is nothing like primary or secondary school. You might like it.” 

“Yeah… let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we. The education system and I have a long, troubled history. That isn’t likely to change overnight, I’m afraid,” John said and for a moment it remained silent between the two of them. Then, in the hope to steer the conversation into a different direction, John asked, “how long are we going to keep this up anyway? Our fake relationship, I mean? It would be strange if we suddenly weren’t together anymore right after Christmas, wouldn’t it?”

Paul shrugged and took a sip from his drink as he thought for a moment. “I wouldn’t say that. I mean, I suppose we could keep this up for another month or so, and then you can cheat on me and break my heart and then I’ll dump you and throw all your stuff out of my window and onto the pavement. We’ll make it the most dramatic break up you’ve ever seen, have some fun with it, and then afterwards we can simply go back to our regular lives as if nothing happened,” he said, snickering as he pictured it. John, however, scoffed at the suggestion. 

“Me? Cheating on you? If there’s anyone who would cheat, it’s you, McCartney, and you know that all too well.” 

“Now, that’s just rude. And besides, my dad already expects you’ll be doing something to fuck this relationship up, so why not give him what he wants. It’s not like it truly matters.” 

“You’re dad is only going to hate me more after this, you know,” John said and Paul rolled his eyes at that, before taking a hold of John’s hand and pushing himself away from the counters he was leaning again. 

“Oh shut up. Don’t pretend you care,” he said and gently pulled John to him. “Come on, let’s go back to the party. Before people start to suspect something.” 

“Hmm… we wouldn’t want that, would we?” John said and before he knew what was happening Paul was dragging him out of the kitchen, back into the dining room and through to the living room. John tried not to trip over his feet as he followed Paul, struggling to keep up with him, and was relieved when they made it onto the couch without any injuries. Just to get back at him, though, John smothered Paul with a pillow, something that his cousins thought to be incredibly funny. 

The party went on for a while longer, though things were quieter now as it was getting late and people were becoming more and more tired. John and Paul were mostly left to themselves as there was little left for them to do in terms of chores, and some family members had offered to help Jim and Mary in their stead, thinking the boys deserved some time alone together. For the large part, they spent their time together on the couch in front of the crackling fire, curled up and cuddling as they drank and ate and spoke to each other in hushed whispers, being only occasionally interrupted by one of Paul’s family members who insisted on talking to them for a moment too, but even then it was rare that Paul did not have his arms around John one way or another. 

The children also left Paul alone for the majority of the evening, spending their time playing with their own toys by the christmas tree, or running around, playing hide-and-seek and other games together. On the rare occasion they did ask Paul to join them, Paul would always humour them for a moment, and would run around the house with them on his back or chase them or have them try to capture him, before he’d collapse in John’s lap again and tell them he was done for now and that he was getting too old. Generally, the kids accepted this, if only because they thought couples who were all lovey-dovey with each other were gross and John was more than happy to help Paul out in that department, pulling him in his lap and hugging him close as he kissed his neck, taking the opportunity to take in that Christmassy scent like he had been wanting to do since the start of the evening. He was glad the kiss they’d shared hadn’t ruined anything between them. If anything, they were closer now, everything else seeming much less significant now.  

Jim also barely paid them any mind, if only because Mary and Auntie Gin were keeping an eye on him, both out of different motivations: Mary simply did not want there to be an argument during her Christmas party, while Auntie Gin genuinely felt for the boys and thought they deserved to have some time together if they so wished, saying how she wished she could have had the same when he’d been their age, but had always let such opportunities slip.

“They are young and in love, Jim. Let them,” they could hear her say to him, and they silently snickered to themselves as she began to refute every counter-argument Jim brought up in response to that. It was not a mystery why Paul liked her most. 

At some point, with the help of uncle Jack, she even managed to convince Jim to sit with them for a while and chat, although John suspected she had tricked him into doing that. Either way, it sure was funny to see the man squirm in his seat with fury whenever John would call Paul pet names and Paul would feed John chocolates as he sat in his lap with no intention of leaving. 

As the evening progressed and the younger children began to grow so tired that even Paul couldn’t calm them down anymore, Uncle Albert managed  to do the impossible, and convinced Jim to let them watch a movie in the living room while the others stayed in the dining room to play card games. It took a lot, but eventually even Jim hadn’t been able to take the screams of the children any longer as they ran in circles around him, chasing each other, pretending to be reindeers for whatever reason, and reluctantly he agreed, as long as they would watch an old classic. 

The children, however, wanted to watch Home Alone and John was always in the mood for that movie as well, it being one of his favourites for the holidays. Jim, though, outright refused, saying he did not consider it an old classic just yet, although John and Paul suspected it was actually because John wanted to see it too. Instead he picked out an adaptation of Dickens’s A Christmas Carol from the 1930s for them to watch. It was in black-and-white, obviously, and neither John nor the kids looked forward to seeing it. Paul, however, insisted it was a good one, and thus John finally gave in, and even helped him convince the rest of the kids that it might not be as bad as they feared. 

Paul watched with a huge smile on his face as John huddled together with the kids to converse with him about the film, occasionally shooting death glares over his shoulders at a very unamused Jim who stood a few meters away, watching with his arms folded before his chest. Finally, after a long discussion, John managed to convince the kids to give the movie a shot but only if a compromise could be made. 

“Oh no, definitely not! The film is compromise enough. Either you watch it, or I’ll call the whole thing off completely,” Jim said, quickly growing fed up with John’s antics and for a moment it looked like he actually would call it off, but luckily Uncle Albert was quick to interfere. 

“I’ll deal with them, Jim. The least we can do is hear them out, can’t we?” he said and Jim huffed in response but let his brother-in-law do as he pleased as Albert took John aside to discuss their requests. One of the boys, who thought this all incredibly exciting, crawled into Paul’s lap and Paul sweetly held him as they watched John and Albert whisper to each other in an overly dramatic way, clearly putting on a bit of a show. 

After a minute or two they shook hands and Uncle Albert pretended to wipe some sweat from his brow as he turned to Jim, who simply told him to get on with it already. John, meanwhile gave the kids two big thumbs up, but the boy in Paul’s lap was still slightly too excited to go back to the rest and watched his uncles with wide eyes as Paul stroked his hair, trying to sooth him.

“They want hot chocolate,” Uncle Albert told Jim, making it sound as if he was talking about thousands of pounds instead of a few hot drinks and the kids giggled, even the boy in Paul’s lap. “With whipped cream and marshmallows and everything!” 

Jim rolled his eyes at that and surveyed the kids for a moment, making them even more nervous than they already were, playing along for a moment, before he nodded “yes”. The kids cried out in happiness and it took John and Paul awhile, but eventually they managed to calm the kids again. Their eyes locked as they sat the last kid down and John felt his heart skip at the proud glimmer in his friend’s eyes. He had done well. 

As Jim and Uncle Albert headed for the kitchen to get them their drinks, the children made themselves comfortable in front of the tv with a bunch of pillows and blankets, while Paul and John took the couch again, curling up on it together underneath a thick woolen blanket. Paul had his arms wrapped around John as John lay on top of him, his head resting right above Paul’s heart, so he could hear its gentle rhythm as they lay together, all warm and cosy. Mary popped in the dvd for them, and soon Auntie Edie and Uncle Albert came in with two large trays of steaming hot chocolates, which they give to the kids, all with whipped cream and marshmallows as promised. Paul and John even got theirs with a little cinnamon. 

“Thank you, Auntie Edie,” Paul muttered as he was given his and already he sounded a little sleepy, his voice quiet and soft. John smiled at the sound and buried himself even more into his chest, making himself as comfortable as possible with the intention never to leave - except perhaps if one of them would need to use the bathroom, but only when it was absolutely necessary. 

The movie, although black-and-white with somewhat old-fashioned acting, was surprisingly good. Or at least, it was surprising to John and the kids, seeing as Paul had seen it many times over already, it being one of the movies his family always used to watch together on Christmas Day, especially when he had been younger. The actors portraying the characters somehow looked exactly how John had always imagined them when he had read the story, which, yes, he had actually done and more than once too, it having been a Christmas present one year when he had still been a child.

The ghost of Jacob Marley also looked surprisingly good for a movie as old as this one, and when the ghost of Christmas Yet To Come came on, John subconsciously held onto Paul a little tighter as he wiggled against him, trying to get even closer to him, which was already impossible. Paul, however, lay dozing with his head on the arm rest and gently ran his fingers through John’s hair as he lay with his eyes half-closed, watching the telly, but seeming not in the least bit scared by the ghost with its long black robe and its hood that made it impossible to see its face. John doubted Paul was even aware of what he was seeing, probably being elsewhere with his mind. The kids, on the other hand, looked just as scared as John, hiding their face behind their hands as they looked through their fingers, especially when Scrooge began begging for his life. 

The film, of course, ended happily and the kids were all completely fine again by the time Tiny Tim came up on screen, alife and sweet as always, wishing them all a Merry Christmas. All in all, even John could not deny the film had, in fact, been good. 

“For a black-and-white one, of course,” he had muttered when Paul had asked him with a yawn as the end credits came up, and although the younger man had rolled his eyes at that, there had been a hint of a smile on his lips and that was all that mattered to John. 

“I’ll take it,” he had said before he had let out another yawn and buried his nose in John’s hair, very much like a tired little kitten, and John let him as he laid his head back down as well, being more than comfortable in his current position. Finally, though, they had to get up, because Paul had to pee. 

John remained lying on the couch, waiting patiently for Paul to return as he watched the kids play lazily on the ground, all looking like they were about to fall asleep right where they were standing, while one of Paul’s aunts turned off the telly and put on another Christmas record instead - Sinatra. The couch was still warm from Paul’s body and thus it almost still felt, when he closed his eyes, like Paul was still here. 

By the time the man in question had returned and had crawled back onto the couch with John, spooning up against him as he pulled the blanket up to cover the both of them, the party was coming to an end and people began to say goodbye. Children too tired to walk were heaved up onto shoulders and people began to put on their coats and shoes and gather their things while John and Paul remained lying where they were, Paul being too tired to move, and John simply not wanting to now he had Paul against him like this. 

John, however, knew he was going to have to leave soon too, and the thought made him pull Paul a little tighter against him. Just a little while longer and their fake relationship would practically be over and he would never get to have Paul like this again. 

Finally, though, Paul had to get up to wish his family a proper goodbye and he hugged and kissed them as he promised them he’d visit soon while John remained lingering behind him, nodding at people and shaking their hands as they wished him a good new year and repeated how happy they were that Paul had such a lovely boyfriend as him and that if Jim would give him any trouble, he could come to them. John almost felt guilty for lying. 

“I er… I should probably head home soon too,” he finally said when most of the people had left. 

“Oh… Right,” Paul said, as he turned to him with a disappointed look in his eyes. Jim, however, who stood a few feet away from them, cheered up at those words, his eyes flickering with relief, and immediately came over to them. Mary, who had just come out of the hallway to see Uncle Joe off, also turned to John in surprise, as if she had almost forgotten he’d be going home again at some point too. 

“I mean, it’s getting late and well… they said it was going to snow heavily tonight and I’d rather not get stuck in that when I’m walking home,” John said, not feeling much for going home either and Paul hummed in half-hearted agreement.

“Yes, that sounds like a smart idea, John,” Jim said, and John and Paul both glared at him for that. Before he could say anything more, however, Paul beat him to it. 

“Or you could spend the night here?” he suggested, ignoring the look of outrage on his father’s face, and turning to his mother for reassurance, knowing she would be easier to convince. “If it’s going to snow that heavily, then it might be safer if John were to stay here. Don’t you think, Mum?” 

“I’m sure John will be fine, Paul,” Jim answered before his wife could, and Mary nodded. “It’s only a short walk. And I’m sure John wants to be at home when his aunt comes back tomorrow, don’t you, John?”

“Well yes, but she won’t be home until noon at the earliest,” John answered, giving Mary his best pout.  

“And it  _ is _ so incredibly cold outside,” Paul quickly added, also pouting and Mary sighed as she looked from the one to the other, her defenses crumbling. 

“The boy lives like ten minutes away!” Jim exclaimed, but before he could say anything more, a voice sounded from the halway. 

“Come on, Jim! You can’t let the boy walk home alone in this weather! Especially not if he’s going to wake up all alone the following morning anyway. No one wants to be home alone on Christmas Day. Let him stay,” the voice said. Turning his head, John could see Auntie Gin standing in the doorway, tying her scarf. “It won’t hurt, you know. It’s Christmas! To even suggest sending him home this late… How could you!” 

“Oh fine! Let him stay the night,” Jim half-heartedly agreed, being too tired to put up a proper fight, especially against her, knowing how stubborn she was when she had put her mind to something, and John and Paul grinned at the man’s clear discomfort. Auntie Gin winked at them both before she too wished them goodbye and finally, all the guests were gone.

“Christ! I’m bloody knackered,” Paul moaned as he let himself collapse onto the couch, running a hand through his hair as he closed his eyes. John stared down at him for a moment, taking in the man’s beauty, as well as his horrid sweater that John still hadn’t gotten used to. Yet its ugliness only seemed to accentuate the man’s beauty, and John simply couldn’t look away from him as he sat down next to him, leaning with his arm on the backrest to get a proper look at him. 

“Do you want to go to bed?” he asked, flicking his finger against the tip of Paul’s nose to annoy him.

“Preferably,” Paul answered and ignored John as the man flicked him again. And again. And again. And finally he grabbed John wrist to get him to stop, causing John to snicker in amusement. “Stop it!” 

“You should’ve told me it was annoying you,” John replied, teasing, and when Paul opened his eyes to glare at him, he could only stare. He didn’t even hear what Paul said and could only see his lips move, as all the sound was momentarily blocked out. Suddenly, seemingly without warning, Paul got up. 

“You coming?” he asked when John didn’t move with him and offered him his hand. John, not having heard a word of what the man had said, blinked up at him stupidly before giving him his hand as requested. Right away, he was pulled up on his feet and dragged into the hallway, where Jim and Mary stood, kissing as they had just wished the last two guests goodbye. They immediately pulled apart as they heard the boys. 

“Mum? Do you need any more help, ‘cause if not, John and I will just be heading off to bed, if that’s okay?” Paul said and John could not believe Paul would actually still willingly offer to clean when he had nearly nodded off during the film. If it was him, he would have just sneaked passed them and hope for the best. Thankfully, and John was thinking of himself as he thought this, Mary shook her head and offered them a kind smile as she told them it was alright. 

“We’ll just put everything in the kitchen and do the actual cleaning tomorrow,” she said and Paul nodded as he wished them a good night and began to crawl up the stairs. John followed his example and did the same, saying good night to Paul’s parents and following him up and into his bedroom, refraining from staring at Paul’s arse as it swayed in front of him, in case Jim and Mary were watching. He sighed in relief when they finally got to Paul’s tiny bedroom, and Paul giggled as John let himself collapse on top of Paul’s tiny bed with an exhausted groan. 

“Tired?” he asked and John grumbled something inaudible into the bed in response. “Hold on, I’ll get you something to wear.” 

John grumbled into the bed again and when he rolled over, he noticed Paul had gone, only to return a little while later with a pair of pyjama bottoms. They were plaid ones, dark blue and bordeaux red, and looked about the right size for him. 

“They’re Mike’s,” Paul explained as he threw them at John and turned around to get his own plain grey ones from his closet. He had to reach all the way into the back to get them, seeing as he usually slept without anything on at all and only had that one pair for when someone would stay over, which more often than not simply meant John, there being hardly anyone else who would stay over nowadays. John, however, didn’t mind seeing Paul wear them. He looked great in them, even if he thought they were uncomfortable. 

“Thanks,” John said as he looked back at the pair in his own hands. “I er… I’d better go get changed then. I take it I can take Mike’s bed too, then?” 

For a moment John was certain Paul froze at the question and when the man finally looked up, he seemed a bit at a loss. John figured he was just tired and that his mind wasn’t working as quickly as it usually would. 

“Oh… yeah… you could. I mean, it’s not made or anything, and I don’t mind sharing if you don’t want to have to make your bed first,” Paul said, desperately trying to sound casual about it, and John’s heart skipped a beat as he realised Paul was actually willing to share his tiny bed - because that bed truly was so tiny, it barely looked like a proper single - even though a perfectly fine second bed was available just two doors away. Not wanting to make it any more awkward than it already was and ruin his chances, he nodded and took Paul up on his offer. 

“As long as you don’t mind, of course,” he said quickly and Paul shook his head. 

“No. No. Not a problem at all!” He smiled, before he hastily looked away and turned around to his desk where he began to look through his drawers. “I er… I got a gift for you, by the way.”

When he got back up, he was holding a shoe box-shaped present, wrapped in Christmas-themed wrapping paper with a bow on top, and Paul looked a little embarrassed about it as he handed it to him. John, however, didn’t mind it if it was a little cheesy, hardly believing Paul had gotten him a present in the first place, which was something they hadn’t done for Christmas for years now.

“Oh, I er… I didn’t get you anything,” he confessed, but Paul waved that away as he sat down on the bed and beckoned John over to do that same. 

“I know. I didn’t think you would, anyway. Besides, it’s mainly just a little gift for doing this for me.”

“I already told you-” John started, but Paul just pressed the box even firmer into his hands as he shook his head. 

“Just open it,” he said and John did as requested, pulling the bow off first, before lifting off the lid - turned out the box really was a shoebox - to reveal a pair of thick fuzzy Christmas socks with soft, fake-woolen lining on the inside. They were a darker green, with a traditional red and white pattern and two smiling gingerbread men on the front. It even had a little bell on the back that jingled as John took them out and lifted them up, his face scrunched up in disgust.

“You fucking didn’t,” he said, staring at the socks in horror. Paul meanwhile struggled to hold back his laughter. “Oh, Paul, you really shouldn’t have!” John cried in a mocking excited voice and slapped the back of the man’s head as Paul just continued laughing. 

“I knew you’d like them,” he said and John looked at Paul with murder in his eyes, not even caring that Paul looked adorable like this, with tears forming in his eyes from laughing so hard and he repressed a grin of his own at the sight of him. Christ this man could rip up his Elvis posters as a joke and John could not get mad at him. The socks, though… they were almost as bad as that. 

“I fucking hate these things!” he cried. “They jingle, Paul. They fucking  _ jingle _ _!_ ” To illustrate, he waved them around a little, but that only caused Paul to laugh even louder as he wiped a tear from his eye. 

“You  _ have _ to wear them tomorrow,” he said once he had calmed down a little. John stared at him in disbelief at that, wondering how Paul could possible expect him to actually put those things on his feet. When Paul just nodded, he shook his head.

“No way in hell, Paul. That you decide to try to look as horrendous as possibly each Christmas with your revolting christmas sweater, that’s your choice, but fuck me… I’m not wearing these,” John said, but Paul just smirked at him knowingly. 

“Yeah, you are,” he said simply and John huffed in return, knowing it was useless to try to argue. Besides, he knew he wasn’t going to wear them. It wasn’t like Paul could make him, after all. Sighing, he put the socks back into the box and put it aside on the floor. 

“At least now I don’t have to feel bad for not having gotten you anything in return,” he murmured, and he could feel Paul shuffling around on the bed beside him. Curious to see what he was doing, he turned to look at him and found himself staring straight into the younger man’s hazel eyes, which seemed more green than brown in this particular light. 

“You’re an arse,” Paul said, shaking his head, and with that he began to get up, much to John’s disappointed, who had enjoyed having Paul that close, having been able to feel his breath on his lips again, like he had during that time under the mistletoe. How he wished he could kiss him a second time, and perhaps even a third and a fourth and a fifth time, but their plan had succeeded and now it was over, or at least until tomorrow morning when they’d have to again for breakfast. There was no way he would ever get another chance to kiss him, no matter how badly he wanted it. 

“Anyway, I’m going to go get changed. You can use the bathroom first, if you want. You can use my brush too. We already kissed once, so…” Paul continued and John nodded as he moved to get up and muttered a soft, almost inaudible “thanks” as he grabbed his pyjama bottoms and started heading to the bathroom to get changed and brush his teeth, offering Paul his privacy. 

Downstairs, he could hear music playing, soft and gentle music, mixed in with whispering voices and laughter. Mary and Jim were still awake, and John couldn’t help the longing pain in his heart as he imagined them together, dancing to the music, murmuring “I love you”s to each other. He hoped he would have that too when he was older, and couldn’t help but wish, if he did, that it was with Paul. 

***

Once both had gotten ready, John and Paul crawled into bed together, Paul offering to go first, so that if someone were to end up crushed to death against the wall in their sleep, it would be him, though John couldn’t see why that would be preferable. He just hummed in agreement and crawled in after him, struggling to get enough of himself onto the mattress so he wouldn’t fall off. The bed really was tiny, and John wondered why Paul had even offered to share his bed with him in the first place, as he doubted Paul was any more comfortable than he was. He didn’t dare ask though, not wanting to make it weird. 

“Just… Ow! Fuck, John, that was my shin! Just… Ah, just stop being stubborn and roll over and face me,” Paul whispered hotly as they continued to muck about on the bed, occasionally kicking each other as they tried find a way they could both fit on the bed while still being comfortable. They had done it countless of times before, but they always struggled at first, not wanting to fall off, but not wanting to end up pressed against each other either. It had been easy when they had been teenagers, but as they had gotten older, their bodies had grown while Paul’s bed, sadly, had not. Once they had found their positions, the rest of the night would go by easily enough, but the first five to ten minutes were always the hardest. John huffed as he tried to do what Paul had told him, rolling over onto his side, where he found himself looking directly into Paul’s eyes as he lay facing him. 

“Hi,” he said, blinking a few times and Paul chuckled at him as he moved about a little bit more until he too had finally found a relatively comfortable position, which was far closer to John than usually. At least they had managed to get both their heads onto Paul’s single pillow this time, which wasn’t always the case.

“Hi,” Paul whispered in return and pulled the covers over them as he lay facing John as well. “You okay?” 

“Erm… I guess. As long as I don’t move. Christ, Paul, your bed is fucking tiny. It would barely fit a toddler!” John answered truthfully, feeling very much like he would fall off if he moved so much as an inch in the wrong direction. But if he shuffled any closer to Paul… They were already close, too close even, and to move even closer was certainly crossing the line. Before he could move to find another position that would be better and less… dangerous, he felt Paul’s hands on him, grasping at his naked flesh to pull him even closer to him, so that their legs lay touching, almost entwined. 

“How about that?” Paul asked with a chuckle, and John stared at him as his heart raced in his chest. There was a slight tremor to Paul’s voice, though, and even though they were lying completely in the dark, John could make out the expression on his friend’s face with ease, Paul being close enough that John could see him blink. He was grinning at him, but at the same time his eyes were wide and he had sucked his bottom lip between this teeth, as if fearing what John’s reaction would be to their sudden closeness, wondering maybe he if he had taken it too far. 

It took a few seconds for John to answer, having momentarily lost his voice at the feeling of Paul’s arm curled around his waist, holding him close, his hand resting on his naked back, while his other hand was holding firmly onto John’s, holding it pressed against his chest. Even after everything they had done during the party, the touching, the cuddling, the kissing, this felt intimate, and not something he should be doing with his best mate. Especially now they didn’t have to pretend anymore. John knew he should probably laugh and say something sarcastic before rolling over and finding another position, play it off as a joke, but the only answer he could think of in that moment was “yes, this is better”, and that’s what he said. 

“I mean, we’re dating anyway, right?” Paul joked and John laughed, admittedly feeling relieved Paul was willing to continue lying like this, even if he had only meant it as a joke. 

“Yeah… no, it’s fine,” he said again and held his breath as Paul nodded and closed his eyes. He was expecting him to break off the joke any second now and tell John to get out of his bed already, but he didn’t. He just lay there, breathing slow and even, eyes closed, waiting for the sleep to come, and slowly John allowed himself to relax. Paul wasn’t going to kick him out. This was actually how they were going to fall asleep, with Paul holding onto John, their faces mere inches apart as they shared the same pillow. 

Uncertain what to do with his free hand and being too nervous to touch the other man himself, John opted to simply have it rest on the mattress between them. It wasn’t all too comfortable, the angle being awkward as there was only a little bit of space left there, but he managed and as long as this was how he would fall asleep, with Paul touching him, holding him close, he was more than happy to make a tiny sacrifice to get it. 

They lay there for awhile, John taking in Paul’s features in silence while Paul lay with his eyes closed, a tiny smirk on his lips as if he knew John was watching him. John didn’t care if he did, though, and merely continued to watch him as he listened to Paul’s gentle breathing, feeling his eyelids grow heavy as sleep began to catch up with him. He wished he could kiss Paul now, and he knew how easy it would be, with them being this close already. He would barely have to lean it, and could even write it off as a joke, say it was a good night kiss and use the same excuse as Paul had already used before: “we’re dating anyway, right?” 

“You know,” Paul said after a few long minutes of silence, opening his eyes again to look John directly in the eye, his voice already thick with sleep, “there is one thing I can think of that you could gift me as a christmas present, if you really do want to give me something.” 

John stared at him for a moment, unsure why Paul would bring this up now, when they were both in bed, ready to fall asleep. 

“What?” John asked, if only to indulge Paul. He wasn’t going to get him something, anyway. Not for those socks! Oddly enough, though, Paul didn’t say anything to answer him, and instead he just stared at him, eyes moving rapidly as he let his gaze travel over John’s face, taking in every little detail, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to say something, but didn’t quite know how to. When John had been about to ask again, however, now genuinely curious, Paul began moving closer to him, carefully at first, as if to test what John’s reaction would be, and he hesitated for a moment, only a moment, as his gaze came to rest on John’s lips. 

Unsure what the say or do, being not even certain if he was reading Paul right, it being incredibly dark in the room, which made it difficult for John to see clearly, even as his eyes grew accustomed to the lack of light and with Paul being as close as he was, John didn’t say anything and waited, shivering as he felt Paul’s breath on his lips, his own breathing halting as Paul glanced back up into his eyes and leaned further in, closer and closer, until finally he kissed him. For the second time that evening, John felt Paul’s lips pressing against his own, and every fiber of his body screamed in response. 

It took him awhile to process what was happening, not having expected Paul to do that of all the things he could have done in that moment, but even when he did began to grasp it, he found it difficult to react to it, not knowing if he should kiss back or pull away. All he knew was that it felt good, better even than the first time, because now Paul was taking his time: John could feel his lips tremble against his own, could feel the inviting softness of Paul’s mouth, the curve of his lips, the warmth of his breath, and the way Paul pressed even closer, almost impatiently. He wanted to kiss back, really wanted to, but something was holding him back. He could barely believe it was truly happening and he wondered if he was dreaming. But Paul felt too real, his lips were too soft, and his breath too warm and the sounds their lips made as they kissed too wet. Paul was real. The kiss was real.  _ This  _ was real. 

And still, he couldn’t kiss back. He knew this was his chance, most likely his last one, but he couldn’t move. He was frozen in place as he let Paul kiss him, and in the end, it was too late as Paul began to pull away, leaving John wanting more. 

“What was that?” he asked as he reopened his eyes, only to see Paul staring at him, looking even more scared now than he had done before, as if waiting for John to start yelling at him.

“My Christmas present,” he answered and looked down at their still entwined hands as he let out a nervous chuckle. “You said you’d let me do it again, so… I did.” 

“I did say that, didn’t I?” John said and when Paul raised his eyes to look at him again, John found himself staring again. This time, however, he didn’t stop there. He wasn’t going to let this keep happening to him. He wasn’t going to miss out on another opportunity like this because he was scared. He was given too many already and Paul was his best friend; he had nothing to be afraid of. 

Gently, he reached out, keeping his movements slow to offer Paul a chance to pull away if he wanted to, and cupped the man’s cheek in his hand as he kept his eyes focused on him, looking for a reaction, a “yes” or a “no”. At first, he thought Paul was moving away, but then, much to his relief, he let out a sigh and leaned into the touch as he eyes fluttered closed, giving John a tiny nod as his consent. 

“John,” he said, voice weak, and John shushed him, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb as he leaned in closer, whispering Paul’s name in reply before he let his lips brush against Paul’s, his stomach churning at the gasp Paul let out in response. 

Encouraged, he let his eyes fall shut and kissed Paul properly, pressing his lips fully against his and sighing as he felt Paul pressing back, returning the kiss as his hands grasped John a little tighter, refusing to let go. When he pulled away, John could not help but stare at Paul in disbelief for a moment, having a hard time fully understanding that this was actually happening, that he was actually kissing Paul and that Paul was not only letting him, but kissing back, seemingly wanting this just as much as he did. He wanted to say something about that, ask Paul if he hadn’t fallen asleep and this was just another dream, but Paul wouldn’t let him, shaking his head when John opened his mouth to speak, and leaning in to kiss him again. 

“Paul,” John moaned, but Paul just kissed him harder, raising his head off his pillow and using his elbow for support as he leaned over John, kissing him as he moaned against him, needy, wanting, his hand coming up from John’s back, over his chest, his neck, his jaw and cheek, until it vanished into John’s hair, while his other grasped John’s hand firmer, refusing to let go, holding on as if he feared he would vanish if he didn’t. 

John wasn’t sure how this was happening, how it had gotten to this over the course of one evening, but he didn’t care. As long as he had Paul, he didn’t care. Paul was here, kissing him, hands holding onto him, lips eager and still pliant, moving with John easily as he practically tried to devour him, and that was all that was important. He had Paul - his Paul - and all he could do was moan as the man in question pulled away and climbed into his lap, legs on either side, straddling him, as he held onto him by his shoulder and kissed him again, lip pulling, eager, searching for more, and John was more than willing to give him anything he desired. 

He was kissing  _ Paul _ _._ It sounded ridiculous, never having guessed that was a sentence he could actually use some day. But he could. He  _ was _ . He was kissing him. Paul, whom he had known for years, who had always been there for him, who had taught him how to play guitar and who John had allowed to see him at his most weak, his most vulnerable, as he had cried on his shoulder the night of his mother’s death, because somehow he had hoped Paul would understand. He hadn’t, though. Not really. But he had tried, and he had let John cry and had been there for him, not saying anything and just letting him cry, because there was nothing to say. And now he was kissing that man. Now that man was here with John, sitting in his lap in his tiny single bed, kissing him, touching him, moaning his name, and he tasted of cranberries and toothpaste, and John wanted more of that, wanting more of him, of  _ Paul _ _._ So he kissed him harder, needing more - needing to  _ feel .  _

“John…” Paul whispered, as he finally began to pull away, sitting up to catch his breath. John’s mind was swimming, arousal pumping through his body, and he almost couldn’t focus his eyes as he looked at Paul. Even blurry and engulfed in darkness, however, the man looked stunning and John could hardly believe his luck for having him here with him now, after all those years. 

He reached out for him, needing to touch, and held him by his waist as he traced the other hand up to caress Paul’s bare chest and shoulders, feeling the way his body responded to his touches, and adjusting his movements accordingly, taking pleasure in the way his muscles pulled tight or how he twitched slightly in places where he was thiclish, and John simply wanted to lay him out on the bed and explore him all evening. 

Paul, however, although clearly enjoying the attention, had other plans. He shushed John when he opened his mouth to speak, gently laying a finger on his lips, and holding it there for a moment as he studied John’s face, his lips parted as he breathed heavily, already out of breath, and God… John wished he could look at him like that all day every day. 

“John…” Paul repeated, and his voice sounded strange: breathy yet tight, needy yet lazy, and hoarse yet high-pitched, sounding as if he was in awe of him as he started tracing the lines and curves of John’s face, as if he needed the sensory proof to believe this was happening. When his fingers came to rest on John’s mouth, he licked his lips as he stared down at John, chest heaving, and, acting on impulse, John kissed them, causing Paul to smile and lean in to kiss him himself. 

“I want you,” he whispered against his lips and John’s body dropped at those words, his brain nearly shutting off as a warmth spread through his entire body, from his toes to his fingertips. “Wanted you all day. Please,John.” 

John nodded eagerly at that, whispering his consent against Paul’s lips as crotch tingled eagerly at the prospect. They were doing this, actually doing this, and Paul was practically begging him for it. He could never deny Paul anything, not when he sounded like that, not when he was touching him like that, not when he asked the for the one thing John had been wanting for  _ years _ _._  

“Yes,” he said, feeling that he should say it, let Paul hear that he wanted this, and nodded eagerly as he reached up for the younger man, taking his head in his hands and pulling him to him, needing to kiss him again. He sighed when Paul let him. 

After that, things went by in a blur. John found it difficult to focus on anything for longer than a few seconds now he had Paul against him, kissing him, moaning in his ear and whispering to him how much he wanted him, how beautiful he was, how strong he felt when he rolled them over, switching their positions, and how good he felt as they rutted against each other, Paul’s legs spread wide to accommodate him. Their hands remained locked together throughout, like a lifeline, grounding them, acting as a constant reminder that the other person was actually there with him and that wasn’t going to leave, while the other remained free to explore and grasp at wherever they pleased. 

Paul’s skin felt hot as John kissed and caressed it, making sure to explore every little spot now he could, while Paul grasped at his buttocks, pulling him in closer as he thrusted his hips up into him, rubbing their cocks together through their pyjama bottoms. It felt amazing and every inch on John’s body felt like it was on fire, electricity shooting through him whenever Paul’s skin touched his, and he eagerly kissed him, sucking on his tongue, drinking him like he had wanted to do.  

“Fuck… Paul…” John moaned when Paul gave a particularly sharp thrust upwards, but no matter what he did, he could not get the lad to slow down. Wanting to at least have had him completely naked, John forced himself to pull away and sat up on his knees as he gently pushed Paul’s legs down from where they were wrapped around his waist and let his hands slide up over said legs to the waistband of his pyjamas, giving it a little tug, requesting permission. 

“Just hurry up,” Paul moaned in response, inching his hips up off the bed to make it easier and John hurriedly nodded before he started to pull them down. 

“Oh Jesus-” John gasped, not believing he actually had Paul underneath him like this, naked, hard, wanting, and Paul giggled at that as he started kicking his legs, helping John to get them the rest of the way off. Once the offensive piece of clothing lay discarded on the floor, he leaned up and pulled John back down against him, kissing him and licking into his mouth as he guided his own hand down to grasp at the waistband of John’s bottoms as well, giving it a firm tug as he urged John to take them off. Almost immediately, the man did as Paul had asked and Paul kindly helped him along, throwing them aside onto the floor with a frustrated growl once they were finally off and gasping as John’s naked body slotted against his own, there being nothing to separate them this time. 

“Paul-” John moaned, as he rutted up against him and he buried his face into the crook of his neck, kissing him there and licking at his skin as Paul cocked his head back and tried his best to move with him. Their hands were still firmly locked together, fingers intertwined and John pressed Paul’s hand down into the mattress to give himself a little more leverage, making his movements easier as he continued to mutter his name over and over again in an endless stream of sound as they moved together. 

As their orgasms approached, rather than moving even more frantically, their bodies calmed and their movements slowed, dragging every thrust, every kiss, every whisper out as they moaned in harmony, their mouths continuously locked together in order to keep their voices down, not wanting to be interrupted. Paul’s gasps became almost silent as he closed his eyes, his face scrunched up in pure pleasure, as his legs trembled where they were wrapped around John’s waist, clearly holding back as long as he could. He barely made a sound as he tried gasping John’s name, and slowly their noises died down until all that could be heard was the creaking of the bed and the soft tiny gasps that sometimes got slightly more audible. 

Paul truly was a gorgeous sight to look at as he lay under him, close to coming and yet wanting more, always more, and John could barely stop staring at him as he moved with him, pressing his forehead against his as he forced himself to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss a single second of this. Eventually, though, Paul couldn’t take it anymore and began shaking his head as he arched his back of the bed, his nails digging into John’s hand as he held on even tighter and when John kissed his temple, he came with a broken cry, almost inaudible, spilling himself against John as he trashed under him, body twisting as he came. John, completely mesmerised by the sight of him, kept going, slowing his movements and allowing Paul to ride it out, before they slowly came to a halt, Paul’s breathing heavy yet rapid as he caught his breath and collapsed on the bed under him like a puddle of goo. 

A few minutes passed in silence before Paul finally opened his eyes again, kissing John’s cheek to catch his attention and smiling when their eyes met. When he started moving his body, his hip brushed against John’s still throbbing erection, making him gasp as Paul stared at him with a frown.

“You didn’t come?” he asked, voice utterly broken as he whispered to him. John had been about to tell him it was fine, that he could deal with it himself and that he should just sleep if he was tired, when Paul began to roll them over again, reversing back to their original positions. 

“Don’t be stupid,” he said, and John gasped as Paul reached down and curled his hand around John’s erection. He simply held him for a moment, feeling the weight of it in his palm, before he slowly started moving his hand up and down, holding him lightly at first, teasing a little, before he began squeezing a little tighter, getting John to gasp his name as he threw his head back on the bed, lying back and allowing Paul to do as he pleased. 

He could feel Paul’s lips on his skin, first on his shoulder, kissing and licking at his skin, before he began exploring, trailing his lips up to John’s collarbone, before moving on to his neck, and up to his jaw, giving every little inch of skin his complete attention as he continued to stroke him, letting his fingers rub around the head with every alternative stroke. When he reached his lips, he kissed him, keeping it chaste and simple, and before John could lean in for another one, Paul was moving down the bed until he came eye-to-eye with John’s erection. 

“You- You don’t have to- Oh fuck me…” John moaned as Paul leaned down and took him in to his mouth, sucking him in and licking with his tongue across the head, before moving all the way down, keeping his hands at the base to cover what he couldn’t reach. It felt amazing, Paul’s mouth being hot and wet and soft and simply perfect, even more so because it was  _ Paul’s  _ mouth. Not to mention that the man knew exactly what he was doing, his movements calm and calculated, taking his time and going slow as he pleased John with his mouth, avoiding teeth and quickly finding all the spots that made John whimper his name as he tangled his fingers into his hair. He wished he could tell Paul just how good it really felt, how perfect he was and how he didn’t fucking deserve him, but there simply weren’t words strong enough to convey how he felt, so he just moaned.

He wanted to hold back as long as possible, keep off his orgasm and enjoy Paul’s mouth now he could, but he had already been so close to coming before Paul had even come himself, that he simply could not hold off any longer. It was too much, Paul was too perfect, his mouth too good, and finally he tugged at Paul’s hair, giving him a fair warning. Paul, however, just held on as he glanced up at John, letting him know it was okay, that he could come, and it was that look alone that was enough to send John crashing over the edge, and fuck… John could not remember the last time had come this hard. 

Then he felt a pair of lips against his own again, gently kissing him as he felt Paul curl up against him like they had done so many times before that evening already and he let out a happy sigh as he turned his head to look at him. 

“You okay?” Paul asked as he saw him looking and John grinned at him as he nodded. 

“Perfect,” he said and Paul kissed him one last time before he laid down his head and closed his eyes. 

“Night, Macca,” John whispered and Paul smiled at that, as he whispered a good night back, before he quickly dozed off, looking pleased and yet utterly exhausted. John laid down as well, making himself a little bit more comfortable and pulling the covers up, before turning his head to watch Paul as he slept. His mind still experienced trouble as he failed to grasp that what had happened had actually been real. He had slept with Paul. It was hard to belief, but it was true, and the proof of that was lying right here besides him, fast asleep with a tiny smile on his lips as he held John close, almost like how a lover would. 

He looked beautiful like that, peaceful and asleep, his breathing soft and calm, and John could see every single one of his eyelashes as they rested on his cheeks. There were spots on his cheeks and  nose too, very lights ones, hints of freckles that John had never seen before in the eight years he had known Paul and even the tiny scar at the top of the man’s upper lip from when he had fallen off his moped a few years ago made him look even more beautiful than he already was, as it only made him look all the more real.

_ I love you .  _

He wanted to say it, but even now, when Paul was asleep and would not even be able to hear it, he couldn’t. But he did. He knew he did. 

***

When John woke up the following morning, he was alone. He was still naked and his pyjama bottoms were still lying on the floor where Paul had thrown them the previous night. If it hadn’t been for that, John would have thought the whole thing had been a dream. Paul was nowhere to be seen, though, and John hugged Paul’s pillow a little tighter as he wondered where he was.

It was already light outside, soft grey light coming in through Paul’s too light curtains and when John closed his eyes and remained completely silent, he could hear people moving around downstairs. There was music playing too, Christmas music, and he could hear Jim humming along to it as he wandered through the hallways downstairs. He wondered if Paul was downstairs as well, helping his mother get breakfast ready. It would be likely, though he wished Paul had still been beside him as he had awoken instead, preferably still asleep himself or watching over him in silence, waiting for him to awake. But instead he was alone. 

The occurances of the previous night were like a far away dream, clear for now, though also seeming unreal and strange, ready to fade as real life continued on. It had been good, more than good if he was honest, and John caught himself smiling as he thought back to it, to them curling up in bed, to Paul kissing him, shyly at first, to how he had looked underneath him, lost in pleasure, whispering John’s name, until finally he had come, and to how he had taken care of him afterwards, before curling back up with him and falling asleep, looking peaceful and beautiful and so terrifyingly real at the same time. John had fallen asleep holding Paul, and now he had woken up alone. 

He tried to think of how they had ended up like that, but couldn’t quite put his finger on it, their act from the previous evening making it hard for John to discern what had been real and what hadn’t. The one thing John did know for certain was that they had both been drinking, and he froze at the thought, a chill running down his spine as he thought of what that meant. 

Had Paul even wanted to sleep with him? Or had that too been some kind of act? Paul at least had been the one to initiate it, but even then he  _ had _ been drinking, and John knew all too well what drinking did to him. He swallowed thickly as he considered it. He shouldn’t have done what he had last night. He shouldn’t have let Paul kiss him. He should have stopped him, but he had been drinking too and he hadn’t for a moment considered Paul might have been doing it because he was drunk. What if… what if Paul wasn’t with him because he regretted it? Was their friendship ruined?

The door creaked open and John quickly turned his head to see it was Paul, showered and dressed and ready for the day. His hair was still a little damp from the shower he had taken, and a few strands of hair were hanging down to cover his eyes. He wasn’t wearing his ugly Christmas sweater anymore, but John couldn’t say his new outfit was any better: he was wearing a pair of light blue jeans with a light pink dress shirt and a Christmas-themed sweater vest over it. It was dark blue and decorated with snowmen - complete with buttons, top hats and scarves in various colours - and snowflakes of varying sizes. John truly did not understand why the man didn’t wear something normal for a change. To make it even worse, he was wearing white christmas socks with holly and reindeers on it. Santa Claus could have been standing next to him and John wouldn’t have been able to say who looked more Christmassy. 

“Good morning,” Paul said as he caught sight of John on the bed and dumped his old clothes in a pile on the floor, before grabbing his brush and towel to do his hair, while staring in the full-length mirror on the back of his door. John blinked at him a few times as he watched him try to rub his hair a little drier with the towel, seeming to barely even notice John was lying naked in his bed. 

“Erm… morning,” John said in reply as he continued to stare at Paul, waiting for some _-_ _ any _ _-_ kind of recognition from him of what happened the night before. Paul, however, just threw his towel aside once he had finished with it and took his time to brush his hair, gently molding every lock and hair into its proper place. 

“I’d get dressed if I were you. Mum’s getting breakfast ready and we’d better not make them wait. The shower is free if you’d like to take one. I left one of my towels on the laundry basket which you can use. You can throw it in there once you’re finished along with Mike’s pyjama bottoms,” he said once he had finished, giving himself a good look over in the mirror and fixing a few final things, as he glanced at John through the mirror. 

“Mum’s making pancakes,” he added with a forced smile, and John nodded as he tried in vain to wipe the frown from his forehead. It wasn’t that he had expected Paul to jump on him and kiss him silly or something, but Paul seemed hardly to acknowledge that anything had happened yesterday at all between, treating him more like a friend than someone whom he had not only kissed, but  _ slept with .  _

Still, he didn’t say anything and nodded in understanding as he sat up and stretched himself out, letting the covers fall away to expose his naked chest in the hope that would would somehow get his attention instead, but still Paul simply smiled at him through the mirror before he turned around and began to look for his watch, placing his brush back on his desk. 

“Great! Well, hurry up. I’m going to help Mum out in the kitchen. See you downstairs in a bit, yeah?” he asked and with that he simply vanished, not even giving him a kiss goodbye and John sighed as he was once again left alone. 

Perhaps he had been right. Perhaps Paul hadn’t actually wanted to sleep with him and perhaps he thought that if he acted like nothing happened, than nothing  _ had  _ happened. 

Sighing, John threw the covers off him and went to get up and take that shower, absolutely needing one after last night’s occurrences, because even if Paul pretended it hadn’t happened, it had, and John was smelly and dirty and there was no way he was going to have breakfast with Paul’s parents like this. Perhaps a shower would help him make sense of it all too. It certainly seemed to have worked for Paul... 

***

The kitchen smelled delicious as John descended the stairs, hurrying down, taking two steps at a time, his stomach growling with hunger, impatient for some of that food Paul had promised him. He had put on the same clothes again as yesterday except for the tie and had - why only God would know - actually put on those green Christmas socks Paul had given him last night, which, John had to admit, were surprisingly warm and cosy, even if they didn’t go at all with the rest of his outfit. The bells jingled with every step he took, though, and John felt a little bit like a cat when he entered the kitchen to find everyone looking at him, already having heard him coming. Paul had probably given these so he couldn’t sneak up on him anymore. Clever lad. 

“Good morning, John,” Mary cheerily greeted him as she put the last of the pancakes on the stack with the others, and handed them to Jim to be put on the dining table. “I hope you slept well.”

“Like a baby,” John answered as he leaned against the kitchen counters to watch as Mary pulled some hot buns from the oven. He glared at Jim as he heard him mutter something along the lines of “more like a gremlin” under his breath before he vanished through the door and into the dining room, where he could hear Paul ask his father were he should place the basket with the croissants. 

Whereas normally John would have followed that voice right away, he now lingered behind, knowing that if he would go in there now, he and Paul would have to pretend to be dating again, which he wasn’t sure he could handle right now. So instead he talked to Mary a little while longer, as she arranged the buns in another basket, which she then handed to John. 

“Be a dear and put these on the table, would you, John?” she asked and John groaned internally, really not wanting to, but he knew it would be rude to refuse, so he nodded anyway, and did as she had asked. Taking the basket from her, he made his way into the dining room with a determined step, thinking it would be easier if he looked confident. 

Paul and Jim glanced up as they heard him come in, and Paul greeted him with a wide smile as he went over to take the basket from him, placing a quick kiss his cheek as he did so, which caused Jim to nearly drop a plate. Clearly, he still wasn’t used to it. 

John, however, was also left in a bit of a shock at what Paul was wearing on his head. As if he hadn’t looked Christmassy enough, he had placed reindeer ears on his head. To make it even worse, they suited him too. Somehow.

“Nice of you to help,” Paul said as he pulled away and John forced himself to smile as he tried to ignore the ache in his chest, knowing that what Paul was doing now wasn’t real. It was just an act. Just like yesterday had been an act. God, how stupid had he been to believe, even for a moment, that Paul was actually attracted to him. 

“Just upholding my responsibilities as perfect boyfriend,” John said in reply and Paul frowned at that, but didn’t say anything and placed the basket onto the table next to the one with the croissants before he took a seat and beckoned John to do the same, his ears bobbing whenever he moved his head too much.  

Mary came in not long after with two pots, one holding coffee and the other tea, and placed those onto the table as well, before she took a seat at the table opposite her son, leaving Jim to take the seat opposite John. 

“Isn’t this lovely?” Mary said once they were all sitting down. “Even with Mike gone, we’re still with four. Now, John. Tea or coffee?”

Although the food was definitely good, John found it hard to relax and enjoy his breakfast. He  mainly stuck to drinking his tea and fresh orange juice rather than stuff his face with actual food like he normally would, struggling to get anything substantial down his throat. Jim was keeping an extremely close eye on him and Paul, watching them constantly and John wondered if he had heard something last night. He certainly didn’t hope so, as that would be more than a little embarrassing, but just in case, he tried to look at the man as little as possible, which usually wouldn’t have been too difficult. Paul, however, was still pretending nothing had happened between them, which made it almost impossible for John to look at him for longer than a few seconds at the time, his heart aching and his throat wanting to scream at him for being a bastard. 

It was painful, seeing him pretend to be his boyfriend, when it was now so blatantly clear he absolutely had no interest in him otherwise. It hurt, and thus the only person left to look at was Mary. This wasn’t necessarily bad, though, and although John knew she wasn’t happy that Paul was “dating” him, she at least tried, which he appreciated. 

His lack of interest, however, seemed to annoy Paul, who kept frowning at him whenever he didn’t pick up on any of his cues or simply took his hand back to grab another croissant when Paul would try to hold it, only to never touch it again afterwards. He didn’t care if it angered Paul, though, and he even wanted him to be angry with him. He wasn’t some nameless fuck Paul could simply forget about the following day! And the fact that he just expected John to act as if everything was fine, while clearly it wasn’t, just made it even worse. Paul had to learn to understand that he could not do that to him, and if that annoyed him, then that was his problem. He had thought he had meant more to Paul than this, but apparently he had been wrong. 

Finally, though, Paul couldn’t take it anymore and kicked John’s shin under the table before he got up and excused himself, saying he needed the use the bathroom, before storming off without waiting for a reaction. His parents stared after him as they watched him go, surprised by his seemingly sudden change in demeanor, and John silently cursed under his breath as he got up too. 

“I’ll go see if he’s alright,” he muttered, masking his own anger, and Mary and Jim simply nodded as John walked away as well, leaving them alone at the table. John didn’t care, though. He didn’t care if they thought something was up between the two of them either, because there was no way John was going to pretend to be his boyfriend any longer after today. Paul had no reason to be upset. If there was any one who was allowed to be upset  and storm it was him, and he was going to make that more than clear. 

He found Paul in the hallway, sitting sulking on the stairs as he grumbled silently to himself. What, John couldn't hear, but he didn’t care either, and called out for him, catching his attention. Paul immediately got up as he saw John approach. 

“What do you want, John,” he asked, his voice dull and interested as he turned away from him, which only angered John more. 

“What do I want?! Why do  _ you  _ act like someone just broke your favourite toy on Christmas Day? You can’t just storm out like that!” John said, grabbing Paul’s shoulder to get him to turn to him, but Paul simply whacked his hand away. “Jesus Christ, you’re not bloody crying are you?” 

“No, John! I’m not crying, I just don’t to see you right now, okay. Just because you can just go on like nothing happened, doesn’t mean I have to do the same!” Paul shot back, glancing back over his shoulder and John swallowed thickly at the bright hot anger he saw in his friend’s eyes, so completely different from how he had looked at him the evening before. 

“What the fuck are you even talking about? If anyone here is allowed to be upset, it’s me, for fuck’s sake!”

“And I’m sorry, okay! I’m sorry I-  _ Shit _ _.”_ Without warning, Paul suddenly started walking away from him, heading to the coat rack, where he got not only his own coat, but John’s as well. He flung it at him carelessly as he told him to put it on. 

“Are you joking?!” 

“Just fucking put it on! I can’t talk to you about this with my parents in the other room, okay? Just put on your coat and get your shoes. We’ll talk in the garden,” Paul explained, angrily buttoning up his coat, before grabbing his shoes from where they stood by the front door and sat on the stairs to put them on, occasionally glancing at John to check that he was doing the same. Deciding not to anger Paul even more, John simply complied, and two minutes later he was standing outside with his ankles in the snow and his hands firmly stuffed into the pockets of his coat, while Paul stood a few meters away from him, playing with the snow that had gathered on the outside table overnight. It must have snowed a lot, as there had to be at least a good 10 cm of the stuff. 

Despite the snow, though, it was surprisingly warm outside. There was barely any wind and the sun was shining brightly above their heads, making the thick layer of snow that covered the world around him sparkle and shine. The tree branches were also hanging low, and occasionally some snow would fall down as a bird landed onto it, singing a lovely morning song. 

John, however, found it hard to fully appreciate nature’s beauty at that moment as he couldn't stop glaring at the man in front of him. He didn’t say anything, though, waiting for Paul to say something first and explain himself. He, after all, had nothing to explain. He had every reason to be upset, but somehow Paul thought he was the one who had been wronged. Really bloody skewed perception of what “being wronged” was... 

Paul stood in silence for a while, deep in thought, and occasionally John could see him looking at him, before he’d hastily look away again. In the end, despite what John had originally decided, he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Well, what the fuck is wrong then?” he asked, shouting it at him as he threw his arms up in the air. 

“It’s not fair, you know,” Paul shouted back, and John saw him taking a deep breath, before he continued, his voice softer now, under control. Somehow that upset John more and he had to gnaw his teeth to keep himself from yelling again. “It’s not fair, you blaming me! It wasn’t just me who was involved, you know. We had both been drinking.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause I should have just magically assumed-” John started, but Paul shut him up by throwing a snowball at him, hitting him square in the chest. “What the-”

“Would you just listen?” he asked, and when John didn’t say anything in return, he continued, “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry! Is that what you want to hear, because I’m sorry. I- I know I shouldn’t have, but I thought you were interested, but apparently I was wrong and I’m sorry.”

John frowned at that, not understanding what the man was talking about, but he didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue, hoping it would make sense later. It was clear he was talking about them, about last night and what had happened, but… what should he have been interested in? 

“I shouldn’t have kissed you and I certainly shouldn’t have slept with you, but honestly, I thought that was what you wanted. I- I thought… I thought…” Paul continued, and when he just started murmuring again, John took a step closer to him, realisation dawning upon him as he realised what Paul was trying to say, and, if he was thinking correctly, what a bunch of fucking idiots that made them. 

“You thought  _ I  _ would be interested?” John asked, careful to keep his intonation right, and Paul nodded as he turned around to look at him. 

“Yes! Because… I thought you liked me with the way you reacted to what we were doing all evening, but apparently I read wrong, and now I fucked everything up, and I’m sorry. But honestly, you agreed, okay! You said-”

“I said ‘yes’,”  John finished for him when he was finally enough to touch Paul and reached out for him with trembling hands as Paul nodded.

“And then you didn’t say anything this morning, I understood that I had been wrong and that you wanted to go on like nothing happened and not let this mistake ruin our friendship, but honestly John, I can’t, okay? I can’t do it like that. Not with you. For fuck’s sakes, not with y-” He cut himself off mid-word as he suddenly felt John’s hands on him, holding him by his arms as he whispered his name. 

“I’m sorry, Paul,” he said and Paul glanced up at him in confusion as he said that. “Paul, God… I do like you. I- I thought you weren’t interested in me!”

“You… like me?” Paul repeated, still frowning and John swallowed thickly as he nodded. 

“Then why the fuck didn’t you fucking say anything, you stupid prick!” Paul shouted at him as he hit him, and John burst out laughing at that, half out of relief, and half out of happiness as he realised that not only had this all been a stupid misunderstanding, Paul actually liked him too. Paul started laughing as well and soon both men stood in the middle of the garden, laughing and holding each other tightly as he called each other names. 

“You’re such a fucking dickhead, John!” Paul said as he laughed and John just shook his head as kept on laughing. “I really fucking hate you right now. This laughter… it’s just a way of shielding you from the insane urge I have to kill you right now.” 

“I’m sorry, Macca. I am,” John said to him in response and finally he leaned in to kiss him, because he knew now that he could and Paul sighed against him as he did it. 

“Come on,” Paul said once they broke away, taking John by the hand and bringing it up to his lips to kiss, as he continued to smile at him. “Let’s go back inside for breakfast, shall we? It’s bloody freezing here. Although you do look adorable in the snow with your cheeks all red.” 

“Says the one looking like Rudolf,” John joked in return, flicking Paul’s fake reindeer ears, and Paul playfully hit him back, before he began to pull John back towards the house. John easily let him, not putting up a fight and slotting himself against Paul’s back as he lad struggled to open the door. 

“John, let go of me. I can’t do it with you hanging on me like that,” he said, but John just shook his head and when he did finally manage to get the door, the two of them stumbled inside, nearly falling over onto the ground. In fact, they would have, had it not been for the man standing a few feet away from them, blocking their fall.

“You two look happy,” Jim said as he looked down at the two boys with a raised eyebrow and John and Paul snickered at that as they scrambled back up. Paul tried to get John to let go off him again, but John simply held on tighter, not willing to let go again now, not now that he finally had him. Paul was his now. Paul was his boyfriend, and now, as they stood face-to-face with his father, they didn’t even have to pretend. Jim rolled his eyes at them, and told them that if they were still hungry, there was still some breakfast left in the dining room, before he walked away and slipped into the downstairs bathroom, leaving John and Paul alone in the kitchen. 

“So? Breakfast?” Paul asked and John hummed as he buried his face into Paul’s neck, causing his ears to nearly fall off as he accidentally nudged them with his nose. “Watch it!”

“Come on, Paul. They’re just stupid ears. Besides, I’m much better.” 

“I don’t know about that, John. At least these ears didn’t bloody make me believe I ruined my friendship with them,” he said and John snorted at that.

“They’re just ears, Paul.” 

“But they love me.”

“As do I,” John answered without thinking and Paul froze against him at that as he turned his head to look at him. 

“You love me?” he asked and John flushed bright red as he pulled away from him, shrugging.

“Maybe?” he said and Paul grinned knowingly at him in response, before taking him by his hand and dragging into the direction of the dining room. 

“You’re not going to say it back?” John asked and Paul shook his head.

“You’re going to be have to do better than a ‘maybe’ if you want me to stay it back, darling,” he said and John chuckled as they went inside. They were greeted by Mary, who was still sitting at the table, newspaper in hand. 

“You alright boys?” she asked and John and Paul smiled as they sat down in their original places.

“More than alright,” Paul answered and gently lay his hand on the inside of John’s thigh under the table as the man reached over to pick up one of the few pancakes that were left. It was out of sight, something private, just for the two of them, and John knew for certain that at least wasn’t an act. 

***

Once breakfast had ended, however, it was time for John to go home. Mimi would be back from Scotland around noon at the earliest and although chances were slim she’d actually make that, John wanted to be there when she would get back. He and Paul helped Mary clean up for a bit before John went to put on his shoes and coat again as he wished both her and Jim goodbye and a merry Christmas, before Paul walked him to the door, hugging him goodbye before opening the door and letting John out.

“So…” John said, as he looked up at Paul, a large smug grin on his face and Paul rolled his eyes at him as he leaned down to kiss him. 

“I do still hate you,” he said as he pulled away, but the smile that lay spread across his face, reaching from the one side of the his face all the way to the other, told John he didn’t really mean it. He had been about to turn around to walk away when Paul called him back. 

“Say, what are you doing for New Year’s?” he asked and John shrugged in response. 

“Don’t really have anything planned. Why?” he answered. It was a lie, but that didn’t matter. He’d cancel anything as long as it meant he got to spend time with Paul again, especially now he was his boyfriend. He was Paul’s  _ boyfriend…  _

“No reason,” Paul said with a shrug, “just… Well… there’s this party-”

“I’ll be there!”

“-and I was wondering,” Paul simply continued, shooting John a warning look in response, drawing it out, “if you would be willing to be my fake boyfriend again?” 

John smirked at that, but shook his head. 

“Paul, darling,” he said, and Paul smiled at him as he waited for his answer, already knowing he was going to say yes, no matter what he would say before that to build up a bit of tension like he always did, “I don’t think you’re going to need a fake boyfriend anymore.” 

“Is that so?” Paul asked with a hum and John nodded. 

“Because now, you have me,” he said and Paul chuckled in response, not being able to disagree with that point. 

“I’ll text you the details then,” he said and John nodded eagerly in agreement. He lingered around after that, neither having anything necessarily left to say, but neither wanted to say goodbye yet either. John, however, knew he was going to have to eventually, as time just crept on. As did Mimi’s train. 

“Well,” he started, intending to finally say goodbye, but before he could continue, he was grasped by his shoulders and was met by a pair of warm lips pressing eagerly against his again and John felt his body melting against Paul as he kissed back, smiling into it. Once he was finally released again, he had already forgotten again what he had meant to say. 

“Bye, John,” Paul said for him and John nodded as he realised that was what he had been wanting to say. He said it back, wished him a merry Christmas, and turned around, walking away from Paul’s house with a large, wicked smile on his face. Already he could not wait for New Year’s. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, if any of you is interested, chut-je-dors made some terrific fanart of the kissing scene of the last part as a Christmas present for me, which you can all check out on her tumblr! I'd link it, but it's late, so I'll do that later. 
> 
> Seriously, though. Check it out. It's fantastic.


End file.
